The Mirage
by ZAHarrow
Summary: Fate was a string that pulled her in too many different directions, attached to too many things. To SHIELD, to her mother's wishes, to her father's, to her own. All of them begging so much from her. It will take a great catalyst for Amy Mercad to finally make a decision. One that could destroy her perfect, fragile world.
1. Chapter 1 - Origins

**NOTE: Prologue has been deleted. It just wasn't a strong start to this story. I may try to incorporate it as a chapter later on when revising.**

**Dedication:**

**Recently an icon of mine passed away. Monty Oum was his name. He was an animator for Rooster Teeth, he was a person who always worked and always created, he was somebody who steamrolled over all opposition. He was immensely creative and when he wanted something done he would get it done. I've always been the exact opposite. This story right here has been in the making since I was twelve (I'm nearly sixteen now). I have refused to finish it. But Monty's death made me realize we have to create while we can. We have to put ourselves out there while we can, even if it isn't a masterpiece yet. My only regret is that it took his death to make me realize this. Because of the death of a great creator it only seems fitting I give life to this story. I want to dedicate this fanfiction, weird as that might sound, to Monty Oum. It hasn't anything to do with what he was personally creating himself, but he's been a part in what I'm creating as an inspiration and motivator. Rest in peace, Monty. I'll do my best to remember you.**

**Title image from connectcompute**

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**Chapter 1 - Origins**

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**Year: 2000**

The sunset looked gorgeous, the blue sky and the pink of the coming night melted together to tint the line of clouds separating them a shade of purple. Amy swung on her swingset in her large backyard. Her long, dark brown hair chasing her as she swung forward and pressing flat against her back as she swung back. The eight-year-old with the boxy nose and shimmering dark eyes grinned with glee as she swung higher and higher on the wooden swing.

"Ten more minutes, Amy, then you need to come inside," Her glowing mother had called as she left her garden, swerving around the swimming pool, entering through the sliding glass door. Amy furrowed her brows and pouted at the announcement, but her beaming grin returned as she swung higher and prepared to jump off at the climax of her height.

A low whistling noise reached her ears. Amy looked around curiously. There was nothing around to make such a noise. She shrugged and continued to swing.

The whistling grew in volume and shrillness. Amy looked up and searched the clouds for its source, and there it was. An object the size of a hefty pebble tore through the sky, whistling along the way. Amy's eyes tracked it, the swing slowing, and watched as it whipped right into her swimming pool.

The ground quaked and there was a loud _CRACK_ that told Amy a crater had been crunched into the concrete of her swimming pool. Amy tumbled off of her swing, hitting the grass hard, but the pain from her fall went unnoticed. She pushed herself up and trampled the cracked ground beneath her as she ran to the pool. She got on all fours and peered over the edge, seeing a glowing purple orb at the bottom of the water. Curiosity got the best of her, and she figured that she had always been a good swimmer anyways. As she jumped into the pool her mother burst through the sliding glass door.

"Amy, no!" She screamed. Amy's submerged ears hadn't heard.

Amy swam to the bottom of the pool, reaching for the bottom of the crater. Her mother was leaning over the water's edge and screaming herself hoarse. Her father arrived seconds later. Their voices were lost on her. She reached out a hand to the crystal-like rock below her.

A sharp pain stabbed into her hand. Amy let out a muted cry, clutching the hand in pain and staring in disbelief. A needle had punctured her palm. It was paler than the purple glow of the glass-like crystal, but it was definitely from it. The crystal exploded with vines and tied itself to Amy's small hand, preventing escape. The burning came immediately. Her blood was boiling within her as the needle of the crystal pumped its venom into her. She screamed in pain, but was muted. Tears that poured from her eyes were drowned by the chlorine water around her.

Every cell in her body, from bone to flesh to skin, felt like it was being seared. She breathed deeply as the pain hammered her and her lungs forced her to find air. Water gushed into her lungs and choked her viciously. She retched until a numbness crawled from the tips of her fingers up her arms, through her chest, along her spine, dipping down to her legs, even sinking deep into her bone. The wet world around her ebbed into a blur and quicker than a lightning strike it melted into blackness. The last thing Amy felt was an arm wrapping itself around her middle.

* * *

Benjamin Mercad heaved his daughter over the side of the swimming pool. He pulled himself up next, dripping with water. He started up a CPR routine with desperate fervor.

The world around him was completely nonchalant and the air hung with the same Saturday evening melancholy it always had. The urgency of saving his daughter right now was lost in the celestial void. It was like the universe had already given up on her life. Ben kept hammering away with the chest compressions. Catherine sobbed with worry. Her chest heaved, green eyes in an endless stream, breathing ragged. She was giving anxious yanks to her blonde locks of hair as she waited for her husband to revive their daughter.

Through the veil, Amy could feel the hands forcing her heart to pump blood. In the pitch black she could feel the air being shoved down her throat and into her lungs - which held sloshing water in them. Then her heart was pumping on its own. Her lungs attempted to suck in air. The water choked her once more, but now it was not drowning her. It provided a rude awakening. Amy's eyes snapped open and she sputtered, falling to the side to hack out the wetness in her lungs. She pulled a clean, sharp breath as her eyes were filling with tears. Her lip quivered and she let out a terrified sob. Her father scooped her into his arms, soothing her with his deep voice and warm Louisianan drawl.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay, Amy. I got you. It's okay," he purred as he rocked her in his arms.

The pain from the crystal hadn't left her. Amy sobbed harder into her father's shirt, wishing she could find the breath to say what was wrong. It caused a whole new awful pain to ricochet through her arm, but Amy lifted up her hand for him to see. See the now pale white crystal wrapped around her hand. See how it was still trying to kill her.

Amy's world ebbed back into darkness, slower this time. She was able to catch her mother's solid voice.

"We need to get her to the hospital," she said in her set tone. Amy knew that tone well. She heard it every time she was in trouble, and she guessed she really was this time.

Benjamin lifted Amy's hand closer to his eyes so he could analyze, but when he received a yelp of pain from Amy he set it back down. His face held an expression Amy had never seen. One that was cold as stone. One that was fiercely determined. She found it soothing. _He's going to do **something**... _Amy knew as her eyes fluttered. She was absent as to what.

"No, I know who we need to take her to," he said as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "Call the first of the speed dial contacts. It'll be labeled 'Phil'," he said as he handed the phone to Catherine. He then went back to investigating what he could of the crystal.

Amy's world was fading away. It was back to the black, back to the sleep. Sinking back into it left a bitter taste in the back of Amy's throat and a burning in her nostrils. She tried to hang on. She tried desperately not to succumb.

"Hello?" Her mother questioned the phone, never letting her voice sink below the line into fearful or nervous. "I'm Catherine Mercad, Benjamin's Mercad's wife," her tone picked up an edge of importance. She spoke faster as she watched her daughter struggle with consciousness. "He told me to call you. Look, something happened. Something to my daughter and he thinks you'll know how to help."

Amy's eyes closed and the sound of her mother's firm voice slowly faded from her ears.

"What do you mean 'sounds like a Level Five situation'?" She asked after explaining fully what she knew of what happened. "How the Hell am I not authorized? What can't you tell me that concerns my own child?"

"Oh, Cat, I'll take it from here."

He spoke rapidly on the phone, talking about many things Amy didn't understand. Then the world was nothing but muted blackness, and her father's words were forgotten.

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**A/N: Okay so there's the official start to** **our story. Yay! See you in like a week.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Codenames

**Three things I want to say:**

**1) A HUGE thank you to all of the people who visited my story, and an even bigger thanks to the two people who followed it: Marmite-1 and debatable-cerealkiller. Debatable was amazing enough to leave me a review and favorite! Thank you both so much and thank all of you sweeties who gave me a chance by clicking. You mean so much!**

**2) I completely forgot to mention the timeline of this story. Currently we're way back in the day. The main story kicks in when Amy's about sixteen, which you can say is about a month after the events of the first Iron Man movie. So our story is going to be set in like 2008. Currently Amy is eight, so if she's sixteen in 2008 and she's eight now then you can do the math to find our current year, I'm a writer not a mathematician.**

**3) This chapter is a little bit awkward for me. Like I said, I've been drafting this thing for years (since I was twelve) and the bits of this chapter have remained pretty much the same, but Monty's passing makes it a bit awkward because he died during what Amy goes through in this story (spoiler-ish: a coma).**

**Ok, now that I've said that and I've added like a hundred more words to an already nearly 3,400 word chapter, I'll stop.**

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**Chapter 2 – Codenames**

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Latex and metal hung thick and smelly in the air. Wheels of a stretcher bounced and squeaked on linoleum. She never knew Oxygen had a taste until it was being forced into her lungs by a machine. It was heavy, dull, and stuck to the back of her throat like rice. The aura of the hospital wing watered down her head and a feeling of unease sat in the pit of her stomach. In her hand a cold, heartless crystal kept a tight grip that refused to release and she remembered horribly what she had been through near hours ago. Amy flickered her eyelids open as panic started beating her heart. With hazy vision she searched for anything comforting that she could find. When she spotted her mother clinging to her stretcher she felt her panic subside. Amy would have smiled if she had the strength. Having her mother next to her gave her a resolution that kept her strong and made her brave. It made her feel like she would make it, she just had to have Mom next to her.

But the doctors needed Catherine gone. They tried to coax her away and promised she could see her daughter after surgery, but Cat only shouted them down. Eventually doctors started shouting back. Amy swore at one point in the argument she had heard her docile mother scream profanities that Amy had never even known. It wasn't until her father stepped in that Cat let go. He tugged gently on his wife's shoulders until she released her grip. Cat fell from Amy's side limp and defeated, eyes dewy and worried. Amy didn't want her to go. She didn't want to face wherever the doctors were taking her alone.

* * *

Agent Hill sat in the waiting room with Catherine and Benjamin. She watched them carefully from across the room, studying Catherine the most. She had her profile on Ben, but Catherine was a new element and she seemed reactive. Maria had seen her treatment of the medical staff upon their insistence that she leave her daughter alone. It was vicious and dedicated. Dedication Maria liked to see, but the cruelty accompanying it didn't sit well with her. Now, Cat sat with her eyes set forward and stoic. Her husband tried to get her to eat something, but she never took anything and no words were spoken by her. Ben went back to fussing over menial things. He organized the magazine shelf by color and then by alphabetics, he aligned perfectly all the chairs in his row, he played with his food rather than eat it. When he found he had no more petty things to distract himself with he finally cried. It was soft and quiet with shivering shoulders and sniffles. Cat quietly rested a hand on his shoulder. Maria was polite enough to look away. She saw Coulson approaching her. Maria let him sit next to her and waited to hear a report.

"The surgery went fine. They didn't have to cut her hand off."

He was trying to be humorous. Maria didn't find it appropriate.

"Anyways," Phil continued, "They took the thing off of her and now the science division is analyzing it. There'll also be a few biochemists analyzing Amy's cells and looking for any inconsistencies."

"Tell the Mercads. Amy's father will want to be a part of the biochemistry."

"And her mother?"

"Will probably be a pain in our ass. But she's important, and even more so is her good side. Let her contribute however she can."

"What about security?" Coulson asked. Maria scoffed.

"It won't be a problem."

"Letting a civilian in on what could be a very sensitive case seems risky."

"Civilian?" Maria chuckled. "That's rich. Do you know anything about her family? Every woman with her maiden name can be found throughout the intelligence community. Her mother died under suspicious circumstances while working for the CIA. Her great-grandmother was actually in SHIELD when it first kicked up, and met Peggy Carter herself. Her two sisters are in the FBI and her aunt is still working for the CIA. Catherine may be a housewife but with a family background like that and the training her mother no doubt gave her you can hardly call her a civilian. I bet she knows more about our organization that most of our own low-level agents."

"I didn't know that," Phil said after some silence. Maria nodded her head once in a matter-of-fact way. "What do you know about Agent Mercad?" Phil asked, wondering if Ben was as interesting as Cat.

"First of his family to graduate high school and to go to college. He's not a genius with a high IQ by any means, hard as that is to believe. He doesn't let that stop him. He's spent years of studying and now he's one of our prominent biochemists because of his hard work, but you knew that. That's all anyone knows about him that's noteworthy. The remarkable thing about him is that he never lets you know anything remarkable about him. Nothing more than the basics that you wouldn't find anywhere but a job application. It's a shame he didn't get into spy work. His ambiguity would have made him perfect for it. I guess he's too soft for it. Mercad does visit the field sometimes though, when his skills are required, and agents always come back from his missions with reports on how well he kept his head and got the job finished. He's a valuable man to have in a crisis," Maria finished her summary of Ben and Coulson nodded in understanding.

Since he had no more questions, Phil got up and walked to the worried parents. Ben sat up with his back erect and his face void when he saw his higher-up approaching. Cat stared with harsh eyes and ice in her chest, holding a cup of untouched ramen noodles. Maria gauged the reactions and saw they were exactly what was expected. Ben stood hurriedly and urged Phil to let him on the biochemistry team. Catherine rose too, but slower. She stared down at Phil despite being inches shorter than him. She made it clear without having to say more than a sentence that she would be getting every status report, would be attending every meeting, and would tolerate little fuckery when it came to her daughter's well-being. Phil nodded his head at her demands without much protesting. Maria sat up and went to fill out her report to Director Fury. She let out a tense breath. _At least it isn't a difficult case, all things considered._

Almost as if Maria's thoughts were a bad jinx, things took a turn for the worse. The anesthetics wore off but Amy wasn't waking up. The doctors declared it a coma and they had no idea how she had fallen into it. There were no allergic reactions, the extraterrestrial mineralogists and forensics team found nothing contaminated on her meteorite, and the biochemists turned up no inconsistencies in her cells. The days turned into a week and Maria's director was impatient with their lack of progression. Then the biochemists, with their most recent sample, found something.

Away from the research labs, upstairs and in the hospital wing, Amy Mercad laid in her hospital bed. Tubes stuck down her throat and IVs stuck in her arms. For once her mother wasn't by her side; she had gone down the hall to microwave a frozen dinner.

Catherine punched the numbers she needed in the microwave, probably overcooking the meal slightly. She sighed and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the seconds to tick by. A medical officer ran past her. She paid him no mind, assuming he was hurrying to some patient someplace in the building and nowhere near her daughter. As her microwave counted down three other medical officers ran past her. She followed them with her eyes down a ways and then looked back at her food, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. She gnawed on her lower lip apprehensively, foot tapping out of nerves rather than impatience now. What if they were going to her daughter? Cat stole a glance down the hall and saw no one. She sighed, ran long fingernails through the roots of her blonde mane, and stood by her food.

Then the shouting began. Catherine abandoned her meal immediately and began running at break-neck speed down the hallway. She heard the crashes and bangs grow in volume as she rushed around a corner. And then-

A doctor was blasted through the wall. His body landed with a smack on the hallway floor, dust swirled in the fluorescent light, debris and rubble laid about the floor. Catherine didn't go into the door to her daughter's room, but rather peered through the hole that blew out almost the whole wall.

Her daughter lay in her bed, still in her coma but convulsing severely. Sparks thick and powerful like lightning flung from her body and ricocheted around the room, zapping anything metal at all.

"We have to get out of here!" A nurse shouted.

"We need to help her!" A doctor responded as they ducked a bolt.

"If we stay she'll blast us through the wall too!"

"And if we don't do something soon she could die!"

"Goddammit, you can stick around and get killed! I'm getting out of here!"

The nurse ran out of the room and Amy's doctor was left alone with a girl mutating right before their eyes. To add to the chaos, Ben and his bio-chem team came rushing down the hall and stopped in front of Catherine.

"We found mutation in her cells," Ben said excitedly for reasons Catherine could not comprehend. "It's amazing! We think it has something to do with the crystal, but whether it does or doesn't her cells are mutating! They were vanishing and reappearing and there were little sparks all over the place and tiny force fields. Cat, our kid has superpowers! It's- Whoa!" Ben ducked as a lightning bolt lashed out into the hallway. He took a look at his comatose daughter and nodded. "Oh, so you already know."

"Yeah, I already know!" Cat shouted. "What do we do?"

"There's nothing to do really. We have to wait out the storm. Her cells should stabilize themselves. They did in the lab," Ben shouted just to be heard over his daughter's new powers blasting the room she was laid in to pieces.

"This isn't a lab and it's not just a small sample. This is her! This is our Amy. How do you know it will work?" Catherine was begging for a clear answer on this one. Ben didn't give it to her at first. He watched as sparks flew from his daughter's body, force fields were thrown up and deleted, she shifted in varying degrees of visibility, and her seizure worsened. He looked back to Catherine with something steady in his eyes.

"I believe in her," Ben said surely. "...And the science behind this."

"My suspension of disbelief isn't that flexible."

"Has it tried doing stretches? Perhaps yoga?"

"_Ben,_" Cat said irritably.

"Sorry."

The churning chaos came to a stop. Ben, Cat, and the extras in the background turned their heads to see her, Amy, laid on her hospital bed. Her body was still like a lonesome lake as she slept soundly. Her skin glowed purple and shimmery as her powers found their home in her body. Slowly the coloration faded and Amy returned to her natural skin tone. The only sign she had ever been through this ordeal was her hair – it was now fluffy and rippled and entirely electric in itself.

The last remaining doctor took a step up to Amy. They reached out a hand, poking and prodding gently. When they found that no electric shocks were being unleashed they relaxed and began a small checkup. Once complete they looked up and faced the crowd.

"She seems to be fine."

A sigh of relief. Cat and Ben approached their daughter hurriedly and stood next to her, not knowing what to do except be by her side.

"What the hell..." A voice came from behind them. Catherine and Benjamin turned. Stood before them was a man draped in darkness from his trench coat to his pants to his shirt to his boots to his eye patch. Ben's lip became a thin line and nervousness was in his eyes.

"Director," he addressed, not looking at the man but at the rubble the hospital wing had become.

"What happened?" The Director gestured to the mess around him, a real testy flare in his eyes. _Do you know how expensive this motherfucking program is? Do you know how hard it is to get funding and grants? And now there's a motherfucking wall blown out. Do you see this shit? Do you see it? Why the fuck is it happening?_ That would have been the monologue everybody guessed was playing in Director Fury's head as he glared at his agent, although some may argue there wasn't enough use of the word 'motherfucking'. It was an annoying mis-characterization, really. Ben fidgeted with his hands.

"Well, sir," Ben began, avoiding eye contact. "It would appear that my daughter - Miss Amy Mercad - has mutated."

"_Mutated_."

"Yes, sir."

Director Fury's demeanor changed to one with piqued curiosity. He walked with his heavy steps to Amy's bedside. She remained unconscious with her doctor fussing over how they needed to rehook machines and how anything metal just wouldn't do anymore with this new electrical thing. Director Fury looked only at Amy's sleeping face for a brief moment before whipping around and strutting out of the room without a word.

Catherine didn't like it. She knew the intelligence community, and silence was never anything positive in her book. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Director Fury's escaping back. No, whatever he was thinking of doing she couldn't allow it. Never.

* * *

Director Fury called for a meeting the next day. Ben and Cat sat through it, listening to the director drone about Amy's medical condition. But then he got into the crystal and what it had done. Then he got into Amy's mutation and what it must mean for her future. Ben gave a nervous glance to his wife as his boss spoke. Cat sat with her bottom lip being gnawed in frustration and a glare on her face aimed at the director. Ben laid a hand over her clenched fist. Cat rolled her shoulders once and relaxed her posture, but she still glared as Fury spoke.

"...and so that's why I believe it is in Amy's best interest for SHIELD to keep a security detail on her. But it shouldn't end there. She has new, volatile powers that she couldn't hope to control. Not without training. I propose that she be taken into SHIELD – but only as a trainee, not an agent at all. We can assist her in learning how to use her new abilities and teach her how to defend herself without them," Director Fury finished. He waited patiently for the Mercads response. It was quiet for a long minute as Ben and Cat spoke with each other through eyes and facial expressions. Eventually Catherine leaned forward.

"No," she said simply. Ben sighed.

"I think we should leave it up for Amy to decide," Ben said. Director Fury nodded once in agreement.

"Right," Cat began with sarcasm wet like freshly applied nail polish. "Because eight-year-olds are known for their amazing ability to make informed, well-thought out decisions regarding their entire future." She turned her attention to the director, full of hostility and bad memories. "I know exactly how this game is played. First it's just training to 'defend themselves' while they're young and then as they grow up and people like you, Director, silently pressure them to join the agency until they can't take it anymore! Then it becomes missions and danger and the risk of dying constantly. _I know about this shit_ and _I'm not letting my daughter go through it too_! You that you can't have her! Not you or anyone else!" Catherine' outburst cruised through the room and wrapped all its listeners in a dense fog like those on winter mornings. Cat sat quietly, almost regretting her statements after some time of silence.

"I agree," her husband finally said. She looked at him with bright hope, so glad that he would back her up. "But do we really have a choice?" He added. Cat was crestfallen, and so was Ben, because they both knew what the answer to that was. "She needs to be trained, she needs to protect herself, and she needs people to watch out for her. We can't give her that. We just don't have the resources. Nobody does except SHIELD."

"That's the thing I guess. No matter how you twist it, she really doesn't have a choice," she told her husband quietly. Cat gave a cynical bark of laughter. "Asking for permission is just a formality, isn't it?" She said, locking eyes with Director Fury, and for almost a second she thought that he looked slightly regretful about drafting a child into this world of spies. But no, that would defy everything she knew about spies, and she knew everything about spies. With gritted teeth she said to him, "Fine. Recruit her."

* * *

It had been a month, one full month since that meeting, when Director Fury's office phone rang. He picked it up and put the receiver to his ear, still filling out paperwork he had.

"Director Fury of SHIELD. This had better be important," he answered.

"Director," Maria's voice spoke, "It's Amy."

"Did she knock out another one of my walls, Hill?"

"No, sir, she's awake," Maria's voiced crackled over the line.

* * *

His long trench coat whipped about him as he marched down the hallway of the hospital wing. He took one sharp turn, stepped through a door, and stood intimidatingly in the frame. The conversation of the room ground to a halt. They all stared at the director. Cat with a distrusting glare, Ben with the respect he was expected to give, and little Amy with utter confusion and slight nervousness.

"Hello, Miss Mercad," he said with the authority of a leader but with the gentleness to appeal to a child; a well-made cocktail for manipulating kids. Catherine would guiltily admit she'd used this type of thing to get Amy to eat her vegetables. Director Fury stepped inside and sat on the end of Amy's bed, comfortably away but still close enough to matter. Amy looked at him with curiosity more than anything now.

"Are you a spy?" She said in an almost-whisper.

"Yes, I am," Fury responded.

"Cool."

"Yes," Fury said mildly. "Amy, do you know why you're here?"

"I done goofed up," she said simply and without any regret. Fury let out a well-timed chuckle. Catherine rolled her eyes at him.

"Yes, you 'goofed up'. Now the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division has to step in."

"That's a mouthful."

"Yes, it is-"

"Like di-"

"Amy!" Her father reprimanded.

"-_ll pickles_," she finished hastily. Director Fury chuckled honestly this time while Ben crossed his arms and gave his wife a distinct _wonder-where-she got-that-from_ face. Catherine returned with a _bite me_ look on her's.

"So," Director Fury began again, "My agency is now going to be on the task of protecting and training you. I will be assigning-"

"Does this mean I get to be a spy too?! Will I get to be a spy?" She asked, jumping up and beaming at him.

"Stop," Director Fury commanded. Amy stilled, but kept her giddy smile. "Whether you become a spy or not is up for you to decide. We will only be training you how to defend yourself and use the abilities you've acquired. You could call them something like superpowers. I'll be assigning agents Barton and Romanoff as your instructors. They will be in charge of your well-being while you work with us. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Amy said in mock-seriousness.

"Any questions?"

"What are my superpowers?" Amy asked.

"Ah," Director Fury pulled out a file from inside his coat. "That would be electrical generation and manipulation, force field casting, and invisibility. Basically," he added because he could see Amy was about to interrupt again with another question, "you can shoot lightning, make shields, and disappear. That's just what we've discovered this month. We don't know if more powers could develop." Fury closed the manila folder and put it back in his coat.

"Cool," Amy whispered to herself.

"If that's all..." Fury got up to leave.

"Wait!" Amy urged. Director Fury stopped and stared down at her. "Can I get a codename? Because, I mean, I think I should get a codename. And I learned this vocabulary word yesterday- er, a month ago. Sorry, its weird, like, time travelling by sleeping for a long time," she said with her perspectively-correct definition of a coma. "But anyways since you mentioned invisibility and stuff I figured that if I got a codename I'd want to be called it and that it would be the vocabulary word," she rambled on with her brown eyes shining.

"And what would this codename be?" Director Fury asked.

Amy took a small breath, exuding her excitement for her new future and the codename that would carry her through it. With a set tone she learned from her mother and with eyes full with hope that she learned from her father she spoke it.

"The Mirage."

* * *

**[cinemasins voice] Roll credits!**

**I'll see you guys soon! I already have the next chapter written (just about this whole thing is pre-written) so I think I'll post it in about three days.**


	3. Chapter 3 - Training Haze

**This chapter has a trigger warning and could be considered rated M for a description of torture. The potentially squicky content begins around when Clint walks in with a USB and ends when Fury starts to monologue. It's short, but it's detailed, and I wanted to give you guys a fair warning.**

**A happy shoutout to our newest followers: MagicRoe, ShigureAyameHatoriFanClub, beverlie4055, cas-the-unicorn, Shinigamidragondemislayer99, and kmj1989. You guys are amazing and I am so happy to have your support. A big thank you and a hug to the new people who favorited this story: MagicRoe, Shinigamidragondemislayer99, and ShigureAyameHatoriFanClub! Welcome to the party, all newcomers! I'm glad to have your attendance. And once again thank those of you who merely clicked on this story and got this far. That means a lot too. :)**

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**Chapter 3 – Training Haze**

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She was small, scrawny, and had a soft spirit. It would be endearing to the civilian world. It would be a hindrance in learning combat. Natasha watched the eight-year-old with the sparks in her fingertips for a moment longer before turning her gaze to her partner. He continued to stare at Amy from across the room, thoughts bouncing around in his head as to what to do about her and her training.

"How do you wanna handle this?" Natasha broke their silence. Clint looked at her and ran a hand through his hair.

"I had a plan – a loose one but a plan. But that was based on the assumption that the mutated trainee we were getting was an adult. Not a kid."

"We can start small and work up to the mature stuff through the years."

"Yeah, sure."

"I think she'll need some entertaining way to learn. Something fun."

"Oh, well, we're good at that."

"Yeah, I think we can handle her just fine."

"Definitely."

Five minutes later Natasha leaned over a horribly electrocuted Clint as he laid on the mat.

"Are you okay?" She asked with a casual level of concern.

"What's the return policy on small mutant children with no control of their powers?"

"There isn't one. You can't return her."

"_Great_."

"I like her. She packs a punch," Natasha smirked as she held out her hand for a fist bump. Amy didn't move, still shaken up from accidentally electrocuting Clint. Natasha let her hand drop. Clint sat up with a groan.

"Here's an idea: we train her powers first. Before martial arts."

"I don't know why we didn't lead with that."

"I think you know why."

"What? Me make the conclusion that her untrained powers would be volatile and erupt at any moment involuntarily? Me know it was only a matter of time before one of us got electrocuted, so we should be very careful? Me _accidentally_ forget to mention this to you? I would never."

"Ha. Ha."

"I think it is kind of funny actually," Amy said quietly. This time when Natasha offered a fist bump Amy returned it with a smile.

"It's because you have a sense of humor," Natasha said. Amy giggled.

"Let's just get to the whole mutant power training thing," Clint said, flopping back down on the mat. Amy laughed again.

* * *

Amy breathed deeply and exhaled slowly as she let the sparks move between her fingertips. She tossed the sparks back and forth. Left. Right. Left. Right. She would halt it suddenly and kickstart it back up again in a flash. Exercises like these were great for stretching herself. She didn't tell anyone how badly it burned to be doing this. She didn't complain at all about how painful it was to rip her mutation from her cells, bounce it around in the open, and then put it back in place. That's how the scientists explained her mutation worked. She thought that part was boring. All Amy wanted was to be able to make bolts of lightning and electrocute stuff, but the scientists also said that would take lots of years of training. _Stupid scientists_, Amy cursed them. She drudged on. She trained. Left. Right. Left. Right. When she couldn't keep a tear from shedding at the pain she would assure her instructors that it was only sweat. She breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. Left. Right. Left. Right.

Invisibility came about as well as a woman with a shitty boyfriend. Amy could never force anything more than a fingernail or sometimes an eyebrow to vanish, and she was feeling hopeless. Electricity conduction and manipulation? Natural. Invisibility? About as invisible as a rainbow flag at a LGBT+ Pride rally. For the love of her life she could not get this down. She was so poor at it that she had to be taken to lab to have her lack of ability analyzed.

Invisibility came slightly easier after that visit. Now she could vanish _two_ eyebrows. With a pathetic moan Amy looked back in the mirror stretching over the training room's wall and kept trying.

The particles of a force field floated away from her, fractals glowing like blue suns in the universe. They floated with the texture of snow and Amy squealed in delight she had gotten this right on her first try. She ran her fingers through the tufts of particles and watched as they displaced. Amy focused all of her energy on forming a solid wall with them. After a few flicks of her fingers the particles made the proper formation, but they were still soft and Amy could poke a finger through them. She concentrated as much as she could and shaped the particles with her hands until she was satisfied with the solid force field. It was blue with purple veins and it shimmered brightly. It was beautiful and magical and perfectly solid in Amy's eyes. She grinned at her success. Now she just needed to test the endurance of the shield.

Naturally, she threw a punch right at it. At the sudden appearance of opposition the force field shattered. The particles fled the open space, jagged and rough like broken shards of glass, and attempted to reenter Amy's body. Cuts tore through her arm as the broken pieces ripped apart skin and flesh. Blood dripped down her arms and onto the mat as Amy screamed in pain. In a flash Natasha was next to her, lifting her up to carry her to the infirmary wing. Amy leaned into her shoulder and howled. She sobbed her eyes sore as the particles of her force field settled unpleasantly and painfully in the molecules of her arm. Her blood trailed down the hall and Natasha was shouting at people to get out of her way as she ran with Amy in her arms. Amy's eyes glazed over as she went into shock. When she would finally come to, arms scratched and scabbed underneath bandages, she would decide to lay off the force field training for a while.

* * *

Amy dodged attacks and threw a few back, her face set like stone unless she landed a hit, and the pleasure only remained for a second. She wasn't like herself this week, Natasha noticed. Amy was more focused, she was more reserved, and she hadn't made a wise crack in days. Guilt hung in Natasha's throat like vomit that was about to become projectile. She swallowed once, ignored that obscure stinging in her eyes that almost felt like tears, and analyzed Amy's fight to make sure she got the right movements. Clint walked up behind her, a hand with fresh bandages setting a mug of coffee down. Natasha didn't care whether it was his or for her, she took it and drank from it anyways. It now sat comfortably in her hands.

The two assassins existed quietly next to each other for a long time. Clint reclined in a swivel chair and Natasha stood by her panel. A one-way mirror was how they saw into this training room's fight. It was a part of an observation deck. Nat nearly sat down, but Amy performed a particularly good round kick, and she found herself stood up a bit straighter with a small, proud smile again. Until Clint spoke.

"She's been different lately."

_No shit, Sherlock,_ Natasha wanted to say. She turned away from the fight, leaning against the panel near the window, and looked at him. He resembled a sick dog. His skin sagged, his eyes were tired, and his hair was in uncomfortable disarray. Clint didn't stop watching the fight as he picked at his bandages, but sometimes he would stare at Amy's face too long and see the change in her. His eyes would find themselves staring on the floor with their shame when that happened. A moment later they would be up and staring at Amy again. Natasha hated seeing him look as if he'd been defeated. She cleared her throat loudly to catch his attention. Clint hesitated, but he took his eyes off the match and looked at his partner.

"I feel guilty about it too," she felt like that was the best thing to tell him. Clint ruffled his own hair in a mix of frustration and stress.

"We shouldn't of let her on the mission. Her mother was right. She was too young for it."

"It doesn't matter how young a person is. Seeing a murder will always disturb them. At least she didn't have to carry it out."

Clint took offense to that statement. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was that he wanted somebody to blame that wasn't himself. Whatever the cause was, he took offense.

"She shouldn't have seen it at all! She was supposed to be hiding in the bathroom while we handled the mission but she wasn't and then she just saw _everything_ and then there was that little boy and-"

"Clint-"

"How could you say 'at least she didn't have to carry it out'?!"

"All I'm saying is it could have been a lot worse for her," she kept her voice low and calm. Clint sunk back into his chair.

"She was so scared of us..." Clint was in a whisper now. Natasha sniffed once. They may have only known Amy a year, but Amy was still their girl. She was their trainee. Their prodigy. She was something special to each of them. You could have said she was like a little sister to Natasha. Amy stuck to her like glue and was always babbling on about one thing or another, which Natasha found amusing. With Clint, Amy was always laughing and trying to roughhouse. Clint was the one that was fantastic at knowing when it was time to get serious and when it was playtime, although he liked to ignore the former in favor of the latter. He could've been like a brother, but for whatever reason Amy told him he was like, "a fun aunt."

And then they just had to take her on that one mission. Amy had begged and begged to go out in the field with them at least once. _On the next mission,_ they'd promised her. _Maybe if it goes well Director Fury will even let you be an accessory on other missions too_. Oh, God, they wished they could take it all back. The horrible thing was, other than traumatizing the mind of a nine-year-old, the mission had gone well. Fury wanted SHIELD's prodigy to get mild field experience on a few other missions too. Silence coated Clint and Natasha like thick paint, both of them feeling equally guilty for letting Amy on the mission and for all she had to see during it. It just wasn't fair.

* * *

Natasha and Nick watched from the observation deck as Amy practiced with her powers, something she excelled at. Her ability became well-crafted and fine like woodworking as she had worked and grown and shriveled up. Natasha didn't know what it was, but at thirteen Amy wasn't the same girl she had met in this very room all those years ago. The little girl with curiosity so strong she risked her life for new discovery, the girl that laughed and giggled with each 'accidental' electrocution of Clint Barton, who was difficult to manage but a joy to be around; that girl was gone. Amy was now distant, quiet, and restrained. Natasha studied her carefully. She watched every twitch of the girl's face, every drastic change from the norm that made up a completely not-normal Amy. Her eyes narrowed. _You're in there somewhere, Amy. I just have to find you,_ Natasha shook her head of her musings. She could put Amy in therapy and extract the girl's old bright personality later. Right now Nat had called Nick in, and she needed to speak with him.

"Amy is too well-known," she said. Nick turned his head towards her.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean on my most recent mission with a Norwegian ally they asked me about my prodigy. I asked them what they knew. Not much. I asked them how they knew it. Apparently there's someone in the intelligence community who knows of Amy and is looking for her. I doubt that will turn out well."

"Does this person know Amy's name?"

"I don't know, but it sounds like no. When I dug deeper, I only heard people call Amy _The Widow's Prodigy_," Natasha answered. "It would seem even the person looking for her knows little at all. They just have a dated physical description and her association with me."

Clint stepped into the room then, a USB in hand. He nodded to his director and walked to the holoprojection table.

"I got what you needed, Tasha," he said, plugging in the USB and pulling a video file from the holographic display screen.

"And what is this?" Fury asked, looking at Natasha.

"A bit of information on the guy looking for Amy," Clint answered.

"So, the person is a man?" Natasha asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Clint turned to Director Fury. "He never shows his face and he never tells his name. He's starting to become known as Torture with a capitol T because of his methods of getting information."

Clint pressed play on the video. The trio watched as the hazy screen played and they saw a man tied down to a table. He was dirty, bloody, and covered in piss and shit. Just like his holding cell. A man off-screen asked a question in Swedish. The prisoner explained back that he didn't know, he had only worked with SHIELD once, and it was never related to any prodigies. The off-screen voice must have signaled something. One of his goons stepped up with a large knife, grabbed the prisoner's arm, and slowly, painfully removed a fat, long chunk of skin from the forearm of the prisoner. The prisoner screamed while his skin was severed from his flesh. Pink meat and blood were all his left arm had left by the end of it.

The torturer wasn't done. He picked up a large pot of boiling metal from a dingy stove nearby. The prisoner began pleading. It was heavy in the torturer's arms and he visibly had difficulty carrying it. The prisoner cried openly, fear gleaming on his face. When the torturer got to the prisoner, who was shaking and screaming already, he poured the boiling liquid over the man's skinned flesh. It blistered and burned the meat of the prisoner's arm, cooked it from raw to burnt. The screams he let out filled up the room like a putrid smell and haunted their listeners' heads even after Natasha muted the audio. Agony twisted with every writhing movement he made. It stretched over his face, grabbed it with claw-like hands, and twisted until he could hardly be recognized. Nat, Clint, and Fury all silently gave their condolences. Clint stopped the video and looked at his director.

Director Fury was still as a rock and just as strong as one. He looked at his agents' faces to get a read on them before he spoke. When what he saw was satisfactory he began.

"Take Amy's file off SHIELD's database. Burn it. Find any other files – schools, doctor's notes, therapists, sports teams – and burn those too. Replace it all with fake info, if any of info needs to be put there at all. I only want one file left of her and I want it entirely off record. Allow nobody but me to access it. And we'll remove her from mission rosters. She'll no longer be an accessory on any missions. I want that done within the next few hours. After that we'll move her to a new state, maybe even a new country. Amy is one of our most valuable assets. We cannot lose her. We cannot let that man find her. When all this is done I want you two to meet me in my office and we can discuss tracking him down. Is all that clear?"

"Yes, sir," Natasha and Clint said in unison. Fury left the room with heavy steps and the pair of agents immediately got to work.

""_Torture with a capitol T?"_" Natasha questioned in the midst of their buzz.

"It was the only thing I could come up with, okay, Natasha?"

* * *

**2008 (present times for the timeline of the story)**

Amy laughed brightly, lunging back and forth to avoid the punches Natasha threw.

"Focus, Amy," her instructor reprimanded, but it was good to hear that laugh. It made Natasha feel like, after two years of therapy, Amy was finally clean. Two years of therapy, laying off missions, making a new life in a new state, and low stress environments had brought back out small bits of the Amy Natasha knew and loved.

Amy charged at Natasha, and got immobilized immediately. She groaned on the floor, picked herself up, and ran at Natasha again. Natasha with one swift move sent Amy skidding across the mat. Amy shook herself and got back up, giggling as she did.

"Having fun?" Natasha asked.

Amy made no comment, she only charged forwards once again. And once again Natasha knocked her on her ass. This time Amy made no move to stand. Natasha supposed this time it had hurt. She walked over to where Amy lay to gauge the young girl. She saw that Amy laid spread-eagle on the floor, her eyes closed, and her chest rising and falling slowly with deep breaths. Natasha sat down cross-legged next to her prodigy. The two were silent as things settled down. They enjoyed the warm, quiet buzz of early morning together in the dojo. It was a quiet meditation that they always found themselves slipping into at some point. Finally Natasha let out a long breath that meant she wanted to begin a conversation.

"You're quite rambunctious today," she said casually. Amy opened her eyes and a crooked smile awkwardly found its way onto her face, exposing her rabbit teeth and stretching her still oh-so boxy nose that didn't resemble either of her parents very well. Her dark eyes glimmered once again as she stared at the ceiling.

"I'll be sixteen soon. Just a little over a month," she cooed happily. Natasha smirked.

"Two years after that you'll be eighteen."

Amy stilled. The glow of her eyes burned out, but she kept the smile on as if everything was fine.

"Yeah," she swallowed the word as she spoke it. "I'll be eighteen in a couple years."

"Do you know what you want to do when you get older?"

Amy exhaled, her smile easing to a horizontal line as she let out the stressed breath. She knew this conversation was coming. It had always found it's way to her. Whether it was her mother urging her to use her powers independently of the government, or her father gently pushing for her to be a civilian, or SHIELD pressuring her to be their agent, the conversation always found its way to her. And it always began with that single question that everybody would ask her, even strangers. They all thought it was innocent chitchat and that it could do no harm and internally Amy would be screaming for them to just shut up. _Do you know what do you want to do when you get older?_

"No, Tasha, I don't," Amy said.

"You should figure it out. Y'know SHIELD could use you," Natasha said, speaking this statement as innocent chitchat. Amy resisted the cringe creeping up on her.

"Yeah, okay," Amy agreed to avoid confrontation. She sat up and was ready to get to training again when a low-level, coffee-fetching rookie walked into the training room. Natasha and Amy stopped and stared, eyeing the greenhorn with curiosity, mild impression, and a bit of judgement. Amy shook her head to herself, wondering just who had sent the guy to them. _Probably some type of prank on the newbie,_ Amy reasoned as she began to unwrap her fists of the bandages that kept them safe while she boxed. _Hey, guys. y'know what would be funny? Sending a rookie to speak to the top agents, most dangerous motherfuckers on the planet. We can hide and watch him piss himself! _Amy internally mocked the upper-levels that were no doubt hazing this kid.

"Agent Neven and Agent Romanoff," the agent said with a nervous quake in his voice, using Amy's alias, "Director Fury has asked to see you."

"We're training; can it wait?" Natasha asked as she stood, not trying to be intimidating but coming off as such. Amy's mouth curled with a smirk stolen from Natasha as she watched the flustered agent. _Maybe it is a little bit funny._

"N-no, ma'am. Director Fury said it was urgent," the agent said. Natasha let out a sigh and turned to Amy.

"Looks like we'll have to pick that conversation up later," she said to her, beginning to pack up and get ready to leave their training floor. _Oh no! What a shame,_ Amy thought sarcastically. She left it without comment and began packing up her stuff too. Both ladies moved quickly and within a second were walking past the quivering agent shoulder-to-shoulder and out of the training room.

* * *

**As usual, see you guys in about 3 days. Please, if you feel like it, leave a review. Seeing you guys as numbers on my followers and favorites list is nice but I prefer to hear your voices in the reviews.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Adventurous vs Naive

**A major thank you to every reviewer! ShigureAyameHatoriFanClub gave me excellent constructive criticism that I don't think I'll ever forget, CupcakeLoopy pointed out that the timeline isn't clear (which I fixed by adding dates before certain chapters), and debatable-cerealkiller gave me some wonderful compliments! Each of you guys contributed something to the story to help me make it better and I have no idea what I would do if I hadn't heard your opinions. I think they really improved my vision when writing this story and I adore all three of you!**

**We also got some more followers and favorites, which I'm so ecstatic to see. CupcakeLoopy, HarrySirius Fan, Jaclyn Frost, Silent Midnight Shadow, and Uncontrollable-book-nerd followed this story, which means so much to me. Thank all of you for your support. Uncontrollable-book-nerd joined the list of people who favorited this story and that is awesome. Thank you so much!**

**I'll be uploading two chapters at once on this update and then the chapter after the next one is going to the one where we get our first action scene. I'm super excited for it.**

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Adventurous vs Naive**

* * *

Amy swallowed once, taking in what she had just been told. It didn't seem real. It didn't seem right. They'd already been through this. She had already been through this and _what the hell did Nick mean he was back again?_ Her mahogany eyes stared at the floor, she swayed where she stood, and if it weren't for the soft hands of her trainer guiding her to her seat then she might have fainted. Amy sunk down in silence, only the raspy breathing of oncoming fear making a noise. She swallowed once and looked up.

"I-I...How? I thought we'd gotten rid of that guy you said was looking for me. I changed my name, I moved away, I stopped going on missions, I did everything you asked me to. Just how?" She begged her questions to Director Fury.

"Unfortunately, a high level agent was tracked down by Torture-"

"God, that codename sucks," Amy impulsively whispered the words as they came to her head. Fury narrowed his eyes.

"Take this seriously, Miss Mercad," he said severely

"I am!" She insisted snappishly. Amy recoiled into herself after her outburst, mentally beating herself for speaking out.

"Torture – for lack of knowledge on his real name – tracked down a high level agent and kidnapped them. They were one of four SHIELD agents (Romanoff, Barton, themselves, and I) who knew your real identity. We're looking for them now, but we can't take risks. We have no idea what they could spill before we get there. The only way to keep you safe is to move you once again."

Amy's head snapped up.

"No no no no! I just got back into the swing of things! I can't move to a new state!"

"Not a new state; a new country. We've worked it out with the UK government that we will be hiding you in Brentford, London, England until we find and reclaim our agent and assassinate Torture."

He waited for her to make an interjection, but Amy sat stone still. Terror and anxiety accumulated at the pit of her stomach, her shock at the destination of her relocation split her lips and stretched them wide, her eyes protruded with the lack of want she had for this. If she tried to open her throat and speak, it clogged with a bubble of fright that she couldn't pop. Director Fury took this as his cue to continue, "This could take months. We've already sent a team to pack and move your personal items. Your parents should be informed about this by now as well. We-"

"Wait," Amy found her voice suddenly. "You sent people to pack my things for me?"

Nick knew what her sudden concern was regarding. "We're handling your books with great care."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Although we will have to return the library books."

"Why can't we just keep them?" Amy started to whine, attention redirecting to something unimportant as usual.

"That would be stealing, and we don't do that," Director Fury answered shortly.

"So, we can go on missions to kill people but we can't just steal some library books to pay off later?"

"Amy, you have hundreds. Paying off that many books is too expensive and I don't want to waste my funding on it."

"_I haven't even finished them, Director_," Amy's whiny fifteen-year-old self came out in full swing. Director Fury shook his head in annoyance.

"You can find them again in Brentford. Now, we have a flight booked for you. It departs in two hours. The drive is one hour and thirty minutes. I'd get going."

"What about my friends?"

"Just like last time it's too risky to keep them. You'll have to forget about them," Director Fury told her. Amy wore a frown, but shrugged off her disappointment.

"I don't even think they liked me anyways," she said. With a sigh and apprehension boiling in her veins she stood from her chair. "Guess I'm off to that flight," Amy said with a voice as warbled as jello. Natasha pulled Amy by her shoulders into a comforting hug. It was brief, but it told Amy everything she needed to know. With a slightly higher head, Amy saluted her director, and stepped out of the meeting room's door. Natasha gave the director a salute as well and followed behind Amy, knowing she was probably the girl's ride. Director Fury watched the women go, shuffling the folders on his table, and putting any worry he had at the back of his mind. _Amy is Amy, she isn't like normal people,_ he assured himself. She would do just fine in England, he was sure of it. But no matter how much he tried to reason it out, there was just something that felt unsavory and wrong about the whole thing.

* * *

Their moving truck was already there by the time their car rolled to their new home, a small house jointed with the others next to it. It was weird to Amy how none of the houses had wide yards and fences to keep the neighbors out. She wondered who she would be sharing a wall with. It struck her that she had better hope that they were good cooks, because if one pot of mac and cheese caught fire and spread throughout that house then it would spread to all the other houses too. More anxiety bubbled in Amy at the thought.

Their car pulled to a stop. Benjamin stepped out first with their driver, who was a security officer for SHIELD. Catherine soon stepped out as well. Only Amy hung back. She guessed that her parents were expecting her to step out now and to be happy about it, so she put on her best face, opened her door, and placed a sneakered foot to the pavement.

The car door closed with a solid clunk behind her. Amy watched the SHIELD agents acting as movers unloading boxes of clothes, furniture, and personal effects onto the street while others picked them up and hauled them into her new home. Amy nodded to herself and let out a breath. _It'll be okay. You'll be okay,_ she told herself. Next thing she knew a thick arm slapped her shoulders.

"Hey, think of it this way: this home will be a great new start for our family." Her father assured her.

"Goddammit, Dad, now it's haunted!" Amy moaned as she shook him off, rushing to just get inside and away from her idiot dad. Her father chuckled behind her, watching her stomp up the steps to her new home. Catherine came up beside him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I really do think it'll be a great new start," she said with a smile. "Wanna carry your wife through the threshold?" She jokingly asked with a laugh.

"I wanna carry her all the way to the bedroom," he returned flirtatiously. Catherine laughed heartily and walked hand in hand with Ben to the doorstep. Ben caught Cat off guard and when he picked her up bridal style she let out a yelp.

"Did you think I was just joking or something?"

Cat laughed lightly. "Kind of," she admitted.

"Get a room!" Amy called from inside.

"We have a room, we plan on using it!" Cat called back.

"Ew!" Amy exclaimed.

"_You'll be like this one day too!_" Catherine warned.

"Yeah; old and heavy," Ben interjected.

"Stop it!" Cat swatted at him.

"With graying roots."

"Asshole," she grumbled.

"Completely," Ben confirmed with a crooked grin, at last stepping over the threshold. Amy sat back in her chair and rolled her eyes as she tried to ignore her parents. A part of her felt a bit happier though. It felt like maybe this new beginning in her life wouldn't be so bad after all. Maybe she could even find something worthwhile here.

Amy awoke with a start at one in the morning. She groaned, rubbing a hand over her dusty eyes and trying to erase the dark nightmares from them. She pulled herself up and went to turn on the light when she heard a distinct clink against her window. Amy froze, mind fluttering to a million potential outcomes. What if _he_ had found her? What if it was – curse the codename – Torture? Amy gulped and put her fists up, staring at her window with narrowed eyes. She inched closer to her window, her guard high and her senses alert. She unlocked her window with a twitch in her fingers. With a swig of fresh breath Amy gripped her window and hauled it up.

No one was there. Amy let out her breath, palm resting on her chest, her body sagging into ease.

"Hey!" A voice whispered hoarsely. Amy jumped and put her fists up, ready to fight. When a figure popped up in front of her Amy didn't hesitate with her punch, but the figure blocked it deftly. Amy swung out again and this time the figure made to grab Amy's wrists, but Amy snatched them back before they could. "Hey, chill out!" The feminine voice of the figure whispered again. "Calm down! Christ! I'm not robbing you!"

Amy hesitated for one moment and looked into the face of the figure.

She looked around Amy's age, she had a face that was round, slanted brown eyes that popped with a sense of adventure, a short nose with a tip that poured downwards like a waterfall, cheeks pink as if she had just been bitchslapped, and perfectly pouty lips. Amy could also see she was quite chubby. Amy looked at the girl with suspicion, not lowering her fists from their defensive position, but she didn't swing again.

The girl took Amy in for all she was. She saw a skinny but muscled teenager whose pants clung to hips carved like the Grand Canyon, she could see hair that was electric in all sense of the word, teeth like a rabbit's could be seen between her parted thin lips, a jawline triangular, and cheekbones high. The girl in the window thought, _Eh, could be worse._

"Alright, well," she began now that Amy wasn't trying to punch her, "I 'spose I should tell you who I am and why I'm here. Name's Penelope - no, you may not call me Penny - and in this neighborhood we don't get many teenagers often. So, when we do get one, me and my crew try and befriend them quick. Hence why I'm in your window about to get punched in the nose. What's your name?"

Amy's fists had dropped and she stood staring surprised at the unusual Penelope. "Um..." Her mind buzzed with what to tell Penelope her name was. She knew SHIELD had given her a new name and a new identity and she knew she was supposed to be using that and not telling anybody anything else but Penelope felt different. Penelope felt like the one person Amy wanted to be honest about with this one. Amy knew Penelope could probably sniff it out if she lied anyways. "Amy," she told her honestly.

"Pretty," Penelope complimented, but Amy doubted she honestly thought that. She'd been told she had a 'slut name' too many times to believe anybody but her parents were crazy enough to actually like the name anymore. "Well, hop out then," Penelope said suddenly. Amy faltered.

"Hop out?"

"Yeah, climb out the window. We've got places to go, people to see, and if we don't leave soon we'll be late," Penelope told Amy.

"Y-you want me to sneak out with you?" Amy asked, astonished.

"Yeah. Let's move, Amy, we're gonna be late," Penelope told her. Amy stood stuck where her feet had her, staring at Penelope with surprise. Her mind fluttered between her own wants and what SHIELD would say. Then they found this middle ground where she wondered what Penelope wanted. The pressure to choose what she would make of the night sunk deeper into her as Penelope stared her down. The longer Amy thought, the more impatient Penelope was. When Penelope took a look at her watch, rolled her eyes, and made a move to leave Amy sprang forward.

"Wait!" Amy breathed out in a whisper, almost surprised she'd requested it and almost regretting it. "I'll go with you," she said.

"Then climb out the fuckin' window," Penelope said obviously. Amy let out a short "oh" and lifted herself out of her window, dropping to the nearby ground. "You forgot the light," Penelope said with her arms crossed her chest. Amy blushed, climbed into her room, shut off the light, climbed back out, and sealed the window shut. Penelope offered no gentle smile as a reward for Amy when she reached her again. She only led the girl to her car, opened her own door, and waited for Amy to climb in too. The second Amy's door had shut, not even giving her time to fasten her seatbelt, Penelope sped off into the night with a nervous Amy beside her.

* * *

**I didn't really know how to end this chapter, so there. You get that.**


	5. Chapter 5 - Weed

**Warning: This chapter mentions underage sexual acts. This content is in this chapter for a specific purpose. I'll let the reader decide what it means in its context and what it allows us to infer regarding Amy's life. I'm deeply sorry if it disturbs you.**

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Weed**

* * *

There was something about riding with Penelope in her jalopy late at night with no one's permission that left Amy exhilarated. What would her mother say? What would SHIELD say? Who cared? The age old adrenaline pumped her veins as she made her escape. Oh, the sweet nicotine of rule-breaking. Of running away, even if she knew she'd have to go back. Of just plain running like the devil was after her. Amy grinned giddily. She was untouchable as the cold wind lapped up her hair through the open window.

Peace washed over her like water while in Penelope's car. Penelope had no music. The only sound was the cluttered noise of the people doused in streetlight that they zoomed past. She didn't drive recklessly at all for the speed she was going. Quite contrary, she drove smooth as velvet. Never a single bump and all turns coasting on a silk wave. In Penelope's car you didn't ride, you glided, and the feeling associated with it was so different. Amy may as well of been a goddess soaring on an eagle's back. It felt celestial. The old stars in the pitch black sky, almost indistinguishable from the still-burning city lights, and Penelope's eyes twinkling as she laughed boosted Amy up higher on her euphoria.

Penelope was an experience in herself. She would glance at Amy every now and then, giving her some sour looks due to the stupid way the girl was staring out the window in wonder, but when she spoke it was with a tired kindness. Penelope was like a rare treasure that Amy never wanted to let go of. She was full to the brim with bitter and she used it to give back a bit of kindness, she pulled Amy towards her like the moon pulls the ocean, she was solid and firm like a beautiful marble statue and Amy wanted to cling to her. To impress her and fawn over her and give her everything she had. Amy wondered for a second if this fascination she had for her new friend was supposed to be some form of love. If it was, she was sensing it ache in her strongly. This night overstimulated so many of her senses to the point where she could taste it. It tasted like freedom on the roof of her mouth yet ties to her new idol on her tongue. It was like every blow job she had ever given, and she'd given lots of blow jobs.

The hot neon of the McDonald's arched M burned the sky from view as the two pulled into its parking lot. Two other cars sat there with three other teens waiting for them.

"Told you we'd be late," Penelope scolded.

"Sorry," Amy whispered, fumbling to exit.

Penelope approached the group easily, slipping into the congregation as a revered member. Amy hung back, not yet willing to invite herself in. Nobody would turn to welcome her anyways. Only after another minute was there a reprieve.

"So nice to meet you, new girl."

Handsome could only describe the boy who had addressed her. Tall, lean with muscle, sandy eyes that held such deep intelligence in them. He wasn't cold, like she had first assumed everyone here would be. He was warm and light. A hand rested on his shoulder.

"Yep, the new girl in town," Penelope confirmed. The boy, at least seventeen, smiled and warmed Amy's bones.

"Akua," he introduced himself as. A soft hand as black as a probably racist analogy outstretched to shake her's. Amy delicately took his hand to shake and spotted the constellations he had tattooed up his arm. She nearly swooned and felt foolish for it. Amy retracted her hand quickly. She brushed a hand through her mane of wavy hair nervously and blushed brightly.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't be shy!" A hand slapped her on the back, the voice belonging to it ringing with a Scottish pop. Amy looked to her left and saw the diamond face of a fiery redhead, and the exact same face a little further behind her. _Oh, twins,_ Amy realized. The similarities in their appearances ended at the hair, face, and vanilla wafer skin.

The one nearest Amy had all of her burnt red hair chopped off. It would drag into her spritely green eyes occasionally and she would push it away gently with her long fingernails. Her forearms were canvases that held tattoos hiking all the way up past her elbow. The sight of them was cut off by her rolled up sleeves. She was full of boyish charm and yet held a ladylike poise; she was hyperactive and sweet and funny and somebody you'd love to love.

The second twin had long hair that tumbled down to her waist in beachy curls. Her eyes were a roiled blue wove with tranquility compared to her twin's innocent glee. Her skin was clean of tattoos but Amy could see the scars on her knuckles that only came from punching something until you yourself bled. She was makeup, yellow dresses, flower crowns, and warring for peace. Her aura was a balm to calm the worries of her friends and smooth Amy's electricity.

Amy realized she had been staring, and for quite a while. She shook her head loose of its thoughts and hid her face behind her hand.

"Sorry," she found herself mumbling.

"It's whatever," the chopped-of-hair twin smiled. "I'm Christy and the demigirl over there is Carol," she said, pointing to her sister, who waved pleasantly. Amy nodded without comment. A second later she realized how rude that may look and almost apologized again.

"Let's go in. Cody's waiting," Akua said. Christy nodded and leaped ahead, bouncing into the establishment like an overeager puppy. Carol followed in soft, quiet steps. Penelope and Akua walked in shoulder to shoulder, Akua keeping the door propped open for her. Penelope smiled and rambled out a long-winded thank you. Akua grinned and made a snarky comment, earning him a shoulder slap and a, "Nevermind, fuck you." It clicked in Amy's head quickly after witnessing this transaction: Akua and Penelope liked each other in more than a friendly way. She shrugged off whatever surprise she felt and walked in after them.

When Amy stepped in the McDonald's the first thing she noticed was the warmth in the air and how grease thickly coated it. The second thing was how damn flashy it was with neon yellow and blood red thrown around the dining area in a really disorganized way. She stepped up behind her friends with ten bills in hand to order a large order of French fries and a small strawberry milkshake. She and her friends were the only ones there other than the staff, who were talking loudly and laughing in the back. After a minute of waiting Amy was walking with her order in hand to the table her friends were sitting at.

"I'm just saying! We're lookin' like chavs over here," Carol laughed like she didn't really care what she looked like. The conversation carried on about chavs and weed and food as Amy pushed the nearest table up to merge with their's and pulled up a chair.

"Oh, Amy," Christy began once she took notice of her, "wait until Cody gets out of the bathroom. You'll love him!"

"He's a bit of a ditz though," Carol said.

"That's okay, I'm one too!" Amy said. The table laughed.

"We noticed a bit, what with you staring into space all the time," Akua teased. Amy blushed. _Have I really been that distractable?_ She worried to herself as she forced a jolly laugh.

"You and Cody would be so cute together! But you'd probably be like ten times stupider together too," Christy laughed.

"How rude," a distinctly Cockney voice said from behind Amy. She turned to see just who would be risky enough to oppose Christy. Whoever it was, she was interested. The gall they must've got...

He watched her eyelashes flutter when she looked at him. Immediately he noticed eyes like a shot of warm whiskey. Staring into them was like getting drunk and laughing along to a million and one stories. She looked to be full of stories. There was a way she held herself that said she'd seen some shit, yet her face was rosy as ever. A real innocence that no matter how much filth it was dropped in it could still be washed clean. If there was one thing he'd want to change about her the most it would be that. He had an odd curiosity for what would happen if he snapped her. It delighted him to imagine. The only thing he really wanted to preserve about her was her pretty face. Her boxy nose, her hair that was electric in all sense of the word, and her delicate facial structure. Her face was the one part he decided that when things got rough he would never defile with anything other than kisses. He swallowed and found his throat dry. Wait, was he actually nervous? Saying something now before he even thought of losing nerve became a good idea.

"So, what's your name?" He asked with a quirk in his smile.

It wasn't a flirtatious thing to ask at all until he had done it. And he did it good. If Amy hadn't had the quivering part of her trained away, that was when she would've shaken violently with chills. He had such a deep voice and such a handsome face. His eyes weren't cold, but his stare certainly was. It looked like he was running dozens of calculations from where he stood at every second, all fixated on her. His eyes were a romanticized blue and his hair was nearly white because it was so damn blond. Looking at him she knew they had gone through things so similar, yet he came out stronger. He presented himself as untouchable, and really it made her want to get even closer. He was solid and whole, something she had never experienced.

"Amy," she answered his question once she came to.

"Cody," he told her his name and blinked slowly. It dawned on him, with looks like her's and a name as iconic as that, that she was just the girl he'd been looking for. Would he ever tell her that? Hopefully some day.

"Okay, Newbie #2, sit the fuck down and eat your food," Penelope rushed him, pulling Cody into a chair. He melted into the woodwork of the clique as if he'd grown up in it. "We only have a few hours of nighttime left to waste and I wanna show the you guys The Tree."

"What's at the tree?" Cody asked in nonchalance, dipping his fries into Amy's milkshake and winking.

"It's not 'the tree'," Carol said in poor imitation of Cody's Cockney voice. "It's _The Tree_."

"We go there to get high and drunk," Akua explained.

"You can't do that in the parking lot here?" Amy asked, taking a sip of her milkshake.

"Do we look like chavs to you?" Christy asked.

"Yes," Cody snarked. Amy snorted her milkshake up and out her nose. The table forgot Cody's rudeness in favor of laughing at her as she mumbled an apology and cleaned up the beverage that ejaculated itself from her nostrils.

"Lots of great memories at The Tree," Carol sing-songed.

"I found out I was asexual there thanks to Akua loaning me his dick," Christy said.

"So, wait, does that mean that Akua's dick was so bad it turned you ace or something?" Cody asked.

"My dick is great - you can ask Penelope - and I'm glad I got to help out a friend, Christy."

"Since Akua was the only guy the three of us knew we tossed him around like a used whore. But now that Cody's here Christy, Penelope, and I can fuck you for fun too," Carol said and Christy laughed.

"I'd like a slice as well," Akua said while making eyes in Cody's direction. Christy and Carol laughed harder.

"You guys done?" Penelope asked. All at the table calmed down and nodded. "Good. Oh, and I think I'll stay sober to tonight to drive Amy home."

"I'll stay sober with you. Cody can't drive anyways," Akua said. Amy laughed.

"You can't drive? Dude, how old are you?"

"Seventeen," Cody said, unamused. "You?"

"Sixteen... In one month."

The table blew up into, "holy shit," "but you look so much older," "you're like the youngest one here," "so shagging you may be a problem then," "Oh my god, Carol, you can't just tell people you wanna shag them!"

"Okay!" Penelope called to order. "We all agree Amy is the dumb baby of the group." Amy threw her hands up in offense, an overdramatized betrayal comically on her face. "Christy, you wanna be sober?"

"Always am," Christy said.

"Okay, now we got that figured out, let's go."

They all stood up in unison, save for Amy. She lagged behind only a few seconds. They each tossed their garbage into the trash and hopped into their cars, ready to go on holy trips under an old oak tree on a hillside long abandoned. Amy leaned back into the soft fabric of the passenger seat. All disassociation brought on by moving from America to England had worn off the second she stepped into that McDonald's with her new friends. As the long drive began and they glided in Penelope's angelic jalopy, she decided that this was a moment she would never let go of.

Organic moments like this were always saved in memories better. There was a sensation that came with human interaction, deep and meaningful, that sunk in better than any other experience Amy could have. The realness of the people touching her and talking to her, the taste of French fries, the smell of weed. It all was so much more saturated in her mind than the nights alone in her room with just a book to keep her company. Living in these moments that produced butterflies in her stomach was better than any drug-induced trip she could ever go on. She could feel the addiction for sneaking out and painting the town with these flawlessly human people gripping her with its claws, and she welcomed it. The moon hanging low in a sky pregnant with tomorrow and the electricity of holding someone else's hand felt like home.

But all good things end. Penelope dropped an intoxicated Amy off at her house, helping her climb back through the window. Amy didn't bother closing it. She forgot to say, "Thank you for the highest moment of my life, and I'm not talking about the drugs." She collapsed into her bed. The morning after she woke up with Cody's kisses on her mouth, the scent of McDonald's grease still on her skin, and the stars in her hand. A lightning strike of glee went through her when she remembered the best night of her life. And the glee ended just as quickly as the headache of hangover bitch-slapped her brain.

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**And so ends another chapter. I'll see you guys again soon, remember to review if you wanted to say anything!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Ready, Aim, Fire

**I'm back and here with another chapter that took so freaking long to finish. It's at about 5,300 words as I'm writing this author's note. Christ. **

**Okay now I know my last chapter was a bit controversial due to a comment that I made involving a teenage girl and her sex life. I understand that Amy is very young and it may have been very disturbing for some readers to know that that is a part of her life but I also feel it's important for Amy's character. And honestly, kids these days are doing the nasty at whatever age they feel like. As a kid in these days I would know. Whether you think it's wrong or not, it's happening and I was just writing in line with that.**

**In lighter news, I got new followers and favorites and reviews and they were stellar! 2 lazy 2 login (tru life bruh) made me feel awesome about my characterization of Amy, debatable-cerealkiller made me all giggly inside for their kind words on my writing skill, and ShigureAyameHatoriFanClub is all intrigued now, which I'm proud of. You three reviewers absolutely made my day and gave me inspiration to write when I had none! User vmarslovahhh18 and iwearabagtoschool (waddup Summer) has joined our roster of people who followed and Skylar97, iwearabagtoschool, and Hurricane.'97 joined the favorites list! So happy to have you guys onboard! This chap is 6,000 words after this author's note. I'll go now.**

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**Chapter 6 - Ready, Aim, Fire**

* * *

Amy stirred from her sleep, a dusty dawn shining its light into her cluttered bedroom. It had been a month since her magical night with her English friends, and it still hung on the tip of her tastebuds like good wine. She eased into awakeness doe-eyed and mind still fogged with sweet dreams. She smiled to herself and rubbed a hand through her messy hair. When she pulled herself from her bed it was with a happy spring. She hopped in the shower, humming to herself merrily.

When she walked into the living room something struck her as wrong. It really shouldn't have. The sun was washing a hopeful morning into the living room, the place was clean without so much as a speck of dust, all of the house was organized in her father's traditional fashion. Then it struck her. Her father. He wasn't sitting in the armchair he always was, watching a movie or a TV show that had only just started so that she could join him. Amy wandered through the house knocking on bathroom doors and peeping into her parents' bedroom but he turned up nowhere. Eventually she found her way to the kitchen, where her mother was busying herself with decorating a strawberry cake.

"Hey, Mom," Amy called to get her attention. Catherine hummed to signify she was listening and continued to decorate with extreme focus. "Where's Dad?" She asked. Her mother stopped.

"Oh, sweetie, um..." Her mother paused as she looked for the best way to say it. "SHIELD thinks they found Torture."

"Really?" Amy bounded forward brightly, ecstatic to have the menace located at last.

"Yes, and your father joined the team that was going to capture him," Cat told her daughter.

"Dad isn't a field specialist," Amy said worriedly.

"He's a jack of all trades. Your father will do fine and should be home this evening," Cat promised. "When he does get home he wants to discuss some college plans with you."

"Well, at least he's not going to miss my birthday," she said, pretending she didn't hear the part about college, her giddy grin turning into hyper giggles as she started to get bouncy.

"Happy birthday, by the way," Catherine said. "And please don't jump."

Amy wasn't paying attention to her and took to pacing across the kitchen floor, letting out various squeals. She very happily exuded, "Sixteen!" and hopped in a circle several times.

"So, will your _friends_ be coming over for your sixteenth?" The way Catherine said friends suggested she really didn't think they were.

"They should be," Amy said in a chipper voice but with narrowed eyes, her excitement pausing. "What's your problem with them?"

"They just seem like a bad crowd."

"You only met one of them," Amy defended, hands on her hips.

"Yeah, Cody. Whom I don't trust one bit."

"You're just being overprotective," Amy said defensively, avoiding her mother's gaze.

"Uh-huh. Well, I think I should be overprotective when you sneak out and do weed with these people. Like a chav," Cat said matter-of-factly. Amy sputtered.

"You-you know about that? How?" She asked horrifically.

"I read your diary."

"I don't have a diary..." Amy said. Cat sighed.

"I know, but your father left me a note asking me to say that if this conversation came up while he was away. According to him it's, "A great one-liner."" Cat rolled her eyes. "Just be careful with these people, Amy," she warned. Amy nodded her head, but wasn't really paying attention. She had just spotted the distinct cars of Carol&amp;Christy, Penelope, and Akua. A fourth car she hadn't seen before parked in front of her house too.

"They're here! Cya, Mom! We're all going to the mall," she called as she grabbed her purse from the coat rack.

"Have fun! Stay safe!" Her mother called back. Before she could've finished saying goodbye the front door was slammed shut and Amy was bounding out to meet her friends. Catherine gave a tense look to the cars as she watched Amy enter the fourth one. She went back to her cake decorating distinctly less focused.

* * *

Amy hopped in the fourth car when she noticed Cody was driving in it. A small smirk touched his mouth when Amy leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I thought you couldn't drive?"

"I don't have my license," Cody corrected, pulling onto the road with ease. Amy nodded once that she understood and didn't say much else. After a while of silence Amy poked her boyfriend.

"Aren't you going to wish me a happy birthday?" She suggested.

"Shut up, I'm driving," Cody instructed as he sped down a turn recklessly. Amy bit her lip and deflated into her seat. It was quiet until they nearly rear-ended somebody at a stoplight. Cody swore once at the car in front of him and then turned to her. "You know, you'd look better if you straightened your hair," he said abruptly, critical intent fragrant in his words. Amy sighed, mentally telling herself that he was just frustrated from driving and that his insults didn't really mean anything right now.

"I tried. It won't," Amy told him, arms crossed over her chest and staring out the window.

"Maybe you should try harder then," Cody said indignantly. Amy groaned.

"Do we really have to do this now? Do we really have to start arguing on my birthday?"

"_Oh, I'm Amy and it's my birthday and that means everything is about me!_" Cody mimicked Amy's voice poorly, overdramatizing her features in an insulting way. Amy sunk further back in her seat.

"I wasn't trying to make anything about me," she said quietly.

"I wasn't even arguing with you, Amy!" Cody's voice began to rise in volume.

"Alright, whatever then. It's fine."

"Don't '_whatever_' me. That's disrespectful."

"Fine! I'm sorry!" Amy said, throwing up her hands defensively. Cody simmered down and quietly steered their vehicle, nearly crashing once or twice with his reckless driving. The air sat tense and breathing hard down Amy's neck, Cody's very presence a slap to put her in her place. She said absolutely nothing the remainder of the ride, not wanting to upset him. By the time they reached the parking lot Amy was so ready to exit that she didn't even wait for the car to have fully stopped before she swung open the door and jumped out. She breathed in the fresh air like a woman who had previously been suffocating. The open environment gave a comforting sensation that wasn't as claustrophobic as the car had been.

"Somebody's eager to get shopping," Akua teased her as he hopped out of his own car. Amy laughed out in tense breaths.

"Yup, that's what I'm eager for," she said with a false smile that denied its desire to get away from her boyfriend. Cody stepped out of his car, slammed the door, and took a look at his watch.

"It's nearly one. We should eat lunch before we go shopping," he informed the group.

"Um, I don't think any of us are hungry, actually," Christy said, a hand resting on her low hips. Her sister nodded behind her. An irritated look grew on Cody's face.

"Well I want to stop by the food court," he insisted.

"Let's just go there first," Amy jumped into the conversation hastily, not liking the look on her boyfriend's face. "Anybody who's hungry can eat and the rest can just sit and talk," she said, trying to smooth Cody's blatant aggression over with her friends. They all took looks between her and Cody, wondering just what was up. But eventually Penelope shrugged.

"If it's what you want," Penelope said. The rest nodded their heads at their leader's words. Amy smiled lightly. _Yes, a pleasant afternoon where Cody's bad side goes back into its cave around you people is exactly what I want,_ Amy thought. She walked ahead of the group to lead the way to the shopping center, walking with a haste only matched by Cody, who took one of her hands into his. Amy happily leaned a little bit closer to him as they walked. Her smile grew as she rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in his vanilla scent, relieved that it looked like the beast in him had subsided.

The group stepped into the food court and pushed together two tables so that there would be enough room for each of them. Cody went and fetched himself and Amy food, despite Amy insisting she wasn't hungry. The group sat in silence for a while until Penelope decided to break it.

"So, Amy, how've you been? We haven't spoken in like a week," she said. Amy's head perked up at her name being called.

"Oh, well, things have been okay. But I finished all the high school courses for homeschooling last week and now my parents keep on pressuring me to do something with my life. My dad wants me to be one of those prodigies who are in college at like a really young age and build a life for myself as like a doctor or something. Really domestic-type shit. My mom thinks I can do good for the world, and wants me to use what I've got for, "The better of humanity, Amy," and then I've got these friends who want me just go straight to working for them... I don't know. A lot of people keep on telling me they expect a lot of great things from me. I just don't see what they see, I guess," Amy finished sadly. Penelope nodded.

"You should do what you want to do," she told Amy. Amy sighed.

"What I want is to make my friends and family happy," she moaned, falling back in her chair dramatically.

"That's fine, but you also need to make yourself happy," Carol interjected. "I mean, look at us. We've all got pressuring parents too but we still do whatever we want. You have to make your life yours, Amy," Carol said.

"Is that why Akua's wearing a skirt right now?" Cody hopped into the conversation as he slid back into his chair with a tray of lunch, asking his question in a way entirely supposed to be negative.

"Yes. It makes me feel pretty," Akua responded in a way that said if one person spoke a negative word about his very pretty skirt he would be beating them to a bloody pulp. Cody nodded that he understood the threatening undertone present in Akua's voice and tight-knit eyebrows. Penelope smirked and slapped a reassuring hand on Akua's shoulder to let him know that she supported him, and would beat any nay-sayers right by his side. She resolved to herself that she and Akua would have to spend a little bit of time shopping for more skirts and dresses together.

The TVs hanging on the walls and pillars throughout the food court, normally displaying the most iconic music videos, cut to static. A shrill whistle emitted from them, shutting up the civilians sitting and eating. Collectively all attention turned to the screens as a dark, shadowy figure appeared onscreen.

"Amy Mercad," a thick Swedish accent spoke with grit. "_I found you!_" It cooed cheerily.

Amy sat frozen in her chair, a bubble sitting in her throat, a _no it can't be_ boiling in her mind, tears from fear brimming on her eyelids. It could only be one man, she knew it.

"It's been so long, Amy, since you saw me. We were only little tykes then. Just kids when you and your friends killed my family._ Do you remember, Amy?_"

Memories swarmed in Amy's mind. Of beautiful women with olive skin and dark hair and choked-on blood dripping into shrimp as she leaned over a bowl of it, of running from the screaming red lights, of the first murder she ever saw, of a ruined innocence and a damned childhood. Two screams bounced around in her head, swirling into one cosmic cry for help. One her's, the other the boy's. The sweet, kind boy with a bit of a disposition for trouble. His face shattering as he took in the scene he'd discovered had always been pushed to the back of her mind, but it was always in her mind. This memory haunted her dreams every night. Yes, she remembered.

"It took so long to hunt you down. I believe your friends have been hunting me down too. But-"

The screen cut to a video of a battlefield. Amy distinctly saw her father running with two men by his side. She distinctly saw the muzzle of a sniper edging in the camera's frame. She distinctly saw her father take a bullet to the head. Brain matter and skull blew like a grenade. His bone was the shrapnel. Blood sprayed the two men at his side, who ran faster and left his body behind. Her hands grasped at her mouth to muffle her horrified scream.

The screen cut back to the figure shrouded in shadow.

"-they failed. I will continue to operate under their naive noses. My name is Tomas Hellqvist - not Torture or whatever ridiculous names you may have called me. You should be very afraid, Amy Mercad. Because I will come for you, _and you will pay for what you did to me!_"

The screen cut to out again and then iconic music videos continued, but not one person spoke or ate in the food court now. Every vendor had ceased cooking. Children sat in their parents' laps sobbing into shirts. Adults looked to one another wondering what had just happened, and who in the room Amy Mercad was.

Amy's friends stared at her as she sobbed horrifically. Her whole being shook violently with fear. Before she could run to the restroom she was leaning over the side of her chair and vomiting on the floor. Several people at the nearby tables stared at the mess of a girl.

"I have to get out of here," she whispered, standing with wobbly legs.

Glass from the sunroofs on the ceiling shattered and hailed on those below it. Black, skintight suited figures ziplined in. Movement became one blurred flurry. Panic rose as families protected their children, but they were all cut down as the villains searched for the one girl they needed. Blood flooded the floor and dirtied clean bodies. It became every man for himself as people knocked over the elderly, disabled, and pregnant to reach an exit. Amy watched as partners abandoned one another for their own survival. One civilian stabbed another for getting in the way of their escape. She looked to her friends, still sitting in their seats, if only because Penelope was holding them down. Penelope and Amy locked eyes.

"We gotta run," Amy said with fear coagulated in her words. Penelope shook her head.

"Look around you, Amy. Look at all these people dying because Hellqvist is searching for you."

Amy's father being shot replayed in her mind and she had to choke down her vomit. Looking to her right she saw the black-suited figures getting nearer to her. She wanted to desperately to run but found her feet wouldn't carry her. She looked back to Penelope.

"You have the ability to help these people, I can tell you do. And it means you have a choice here, Amy. You can either let this violence go on or you can fight back against these guys," Penelope urged.

"But I don't know which to do!" Amy was honest. She didn't know if she wanted to go up against the danger and face the terror she felt rising in her chest. She didn't know if she wanted to be a hero.

"You're still standing here. You must know something," Penelope told her as the villains came closer.

Her fear tickled at the back of her throat, but something beat in her heart that hadn't in a while. Something that enhanced every one of her senses and hyped her up like ecstasy. It reached into her chest and pumped her heart ten times faster. Her blood was racing through her brain and struck her resolve with enhancing lightning. _Adrenaline_, she realized its name was. It ached in her belly and twitched in her fingertips. She realized she knew a lot about what she was going to do. Her face must have been set strongly, because Penelope gave her a nod and stood.

"I want to help," Penelope said.

"What have you got?" Amy asked quickly, knowing that the villains were about to be on them.

"I was born with this thing. My parents called it a miracle..." Penelope's eyes held something Amy had never seen in them before: fear. Not the kind from battle, but the kind you get when you're worried people will disapprove. Before Amy's eyes Penelope's skin flipped like a coin tossed, burning red scales replacing the skin once present. Her nails sharpened and elongated, her brown eyes became yellow with pupils like the slits on a cat's, her hair was swept under sharp and pointing horns. When Penelope let out a breath, flames flickered in it. It struck Amy just what Penelope was.

"You're a dragon," Amy said slowly, impressed.

"I'm a mutant," Penelope said with pride, willing to brush off her friends if they rejected her. She looked at them with fear that they would reject her. But Akua – gods bless the sweet boy – grinned.

"That is the coolest thing ever!" He exclaimed. Penelope gave a watery smile with sharp teeth and no lips, for everything had been given to the scaly form of the dragon. She looked to Amy with solidarity.

"So, are we gonna do this or what?" Penelope said urgently. Amy nodded once, turning and facing the enemies awaiting her. Her and Penelope's friends stood to start their leave. Cody sprung up and forced a kiss on Amy's lips before he went.

"I just want to say, you've got my permission for this. Do good out there!" He called as he ran away with the twins and Akua. Penelope rolled her eyes at the boy. Together she and Amy stared down the villains in a now-empty food court. The assassins stared right back. Both parties eased into their fighting stances.

"Just to let you know, I can only see in infrared in this form, so I may accidentally hit you," Penelope warned, eyes not leaving her targets.

"If you need help with the distinction the rule of thumb is I'll be the one who's winning," Amy said. Penelope laughed heartily.

"The Widow's Prodigy!" A Swedish gun for hire yelled at the sight of Amy.

"Actually, the codename's Mirage," she said as she flickered from visibility.

The gunshots came immediately. Amy gasped in fear and rolled into sudden motion, running with her shields up. Invisibility was useful but the lack of light reflecting in her retinas meant that she couldn't see, and if she couldn't see then she would have no idea when to dodge a bullet. She hid behind an overturned table that she remembered laying somewhere, clutching her hammering heart. Her mouth way dry with fear and her eyes were wet.

This was not what she had anticipated from her first fight. She had never imagined the feeling of being hunted as the bullets whizzed past her cheek, scraping the skin and burning and making her bleed. This paranoid frenzy of constantly looking over your shoulder for stray bullets, a knife, or a fist wasn't something she'd been warned about. Nothing about her training had prepared her. She swallowed once, returned to visibility and reclaimed the comfort her sight gave her.

She let out a low breath and regained her focus. Behind her the guns jostled in their owners' hands. Bullets ricocheted across tiles and columns. Her ally hid behind a table a few feet from her, watching her and looking for a sense of direction. Amy swayed slightly, feeling faint as her thoughts swarmed like angry bees. Every rule of fighting she'd been taught flashed in her mind like a flickering movie from the 1920's. She found they did not suffice. She got over it. Amy cast her force field, stood, and charged.

She met her first enemy quickly. Amy dropped her shield and reached for the wrist holding a weapon, twisting it until there was a pop. She grimaced at the pain caused to another living thing. As she swung out to punch the man, her muscles twitched with a lack of want for the violence. She flinched when she heard the clap of skin on skin, her face twisted in disgust when she felt the crunch distinctly belonging to broken bone, and she did her best to block out the agonized but brief scream he gave. Amy spun so that she was on the inside now, placing her hip level with his pelvis, grabbing his arm, and flipping him over her back. When he was on the ground, she stomped once on his head to knock him out.

She didn't have a chance to breathe as the next enemy came from behind. She elbowed him in the mouth, knocking his own teeth down his throat. Her body moved with Natasha's agility and her own fluid sparks. His head snapped back as she kicked him in the jaw, her own flip-flop flying off with the move. Before her foot had even fallen back to the ground she threw out the next kick, roundhousing the goon in the temple. His unconscious body smacked the floor and Amy was running to her next opponent.

They fired countless bullets and Amy threw a force field up for each one of them. She dashed towards them, face taut, hands perpetually spinning about her as she cast her force fields. As soon as she was near enough, Amy flipped, caught the woman's head between her legs, and flung the gun for hire to the floor with a backflip. She ran to the next in line, a force field across her forearm blocking all gunshots. Amy moved almost too fast to see. She gripped the gunslinger's arm, spun around, and snapped it on her shoulder. As the assassin howled she supercharged her fist with electricity and pounded their jaw with an uppercut. Their body flew back several feet away from the teenage girl.

She had to take cover as three gained up on her at once. She dodged behind a table and threw her shields up as the assassins fired their shots at her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a bloody red being accelerating her speed, flames in her wake.

Penelope crashed into the assassins like a bowling ball does to pins. They were blasted back and Penelope stood in the fiery carnage with set shoulders and burning eyes. As the assassins slowly stood, more crowded around the flaming Penelope, whose scales were alight with flames. She stared them down, fire dancing in her irises, as the assassins stared her down in return. A smirk flickered over her mouth.

Like a dog snapping from its leash, Penelope bounded forward, barely even touching the ground she ran on. She leaped through the air, landing a flaming punch on the center assassin. He was thrown back, shouting as he sailed through the air and into a table. Gunshots rang out as agents fired at Penelope, but no shots could crack her scales. She feinted left and right as she speedily approached the guns for hire, three of them in her sights. As she raced towards them, she threw out hands and fire bloomed among her splayed fingers. With a pitch like a baseball player, she threw a fireball at the one to the left. They dodged right and avoided her flames. Penelope threw the next fireball, and then the next, and then the next, rapid fire as she came nearer and nearer. Explosions resounded as her fireballs detonated. The guns for hire had given up on their quest to kill her and took to running instead, but Penelope caught up to them at last.

She gripped the first one by his waist from behind. Before she had even executed her maneuver he was screaming. She picked him up effortlessly, spun back around, and slammed him into the tile of the floor. Penelope bounced off the floor and raced for the next one, taking them down just as easily as the last. The third she was so close to catching when a strike of lightning took him out for her.

Penelope whipped around to see Amy standing, two other assassins circling her. As two more approached Penelope herself, she shrugged off Amy and busied herself with disarming her villains. Besides, her ally seemed to have a handle on things.

Amy got thrown into a fucking wall. It left cracks like a spider's web on the column. She lay still on the floor for a beat, but when she rose it was slow and menacing. Amy let her powers consume their cells, electricity sparking up her heart and making it skip beats. Her whole being was set alive in an electrical storm. She bounded from her spot ferociously, jumping up and kicking an assassin square in the chest with both feet. She dropped to the floor quickly and kicked out the legs of the one racing toward's her. Amy stood up hastily and gripped the falling villain by their hair. She electrocuted them until their eyes rolled back in their head. She let them collapse into spasms on the floor as sparks flickered in their body.

Amy spun around just in time to catch a boot to the chest. She was knocked on her back to the floor, not enough time to get up before a pointy toed shoe kicked her in the ribs harshly. Amy growled and moved to spring up, but she was kneed in the face. Amy threw a force field up to block her opponent and she got a good look at them.

She was a woman, masked with narrow slits showing her eyes, with a dark ponytail bouncing as she kicked at the force field. Amy rolled over and stood behind her shield. When she dropped the force field the woman charged at her. Amy was prepared to counter and move to offenses, but the assassin kept her busy and constantly on defense. Kicks came too swift to see and Amy was knocked back and forth repeatedly. It dizzied her brain, made it hard for her lungs to catch their breath, and wobbled her knees. Sick of the abuse, Amy lashed out with a flash of lightning, deftly dodged by the woman, who sprung on her with a new flurry of kicks Amy had to bob and weave through. The woman made for a final attack move, but Amy caught her arms in her own. The two stood locked together in a stalemate, but Amy was slipping. Her arms were trembling with exhaustion from fighting so many, but the assassin was only just getting started. She weighed down on Amy, forcing her will on the girl and bending her until she was close enough to break.

"Hey!" Amy called to get Penelope's attention.

Penelope threw off the last of her opponents, jumping over a katana blade and kicking them in the throat. She effectively broke their windpipe. Her attention whipped to Amy.

"Do you need my help or- Oh, look somebody dropped their gold watch!" She exclaimed.

"Penelope!" Amy croaked angrily, losing her hold on the defensive position she was locked in. Penelope shook her head to clear her thoughts.

"Right," she said, whipping a fireball towards the struggling figure in her infrared sights.

Amy threw up a shield just in time to avoid being burned but lost her defense. The assassin kicked her over and into a nearby table, the blood of a family slaughtered there stained Amy's clothes.

"What the fuck, Penelope?!" Amy yelled.

"You said that you would be the one who was winning, so I shot at the loser!" Penelope yelled back.

"Well this was the one anomaly, okay!" Amy defended before getting kicked in the jaw.

"The great Black Widow's precious prodigy," the Swedish woman monologued, "but it doesn't even know how to fight me." She snickered harshly. Amy raised her head and glared at the woman towering over her. She was filled with something she had never been before: a seething anger. It was distasteful to her the way it sat in her stomach and sizzled on her tongue, but she found it was also incredibly powerful.

"You know," Amy seethed, "quiet types like me are the worst to piss off. And you're really pissing me off."

She rose quicker than the strike of lightning charging up her veins. She kicked her enemy once in the crotch. A cheap shot, but they doubled over in pain. Amy took the weakness as an advantage. She pulled back her punch, charging every bit of electricity she had in it, and when she hit it was brutalizing. The punch caved in the assassin's nose, shattered the bones of her cheeks. It blasted the woman back into the nearest column ten feet away, back breaking as it snapped against the pillar.

Amy stood exhausted and huffing. Her body shook as she sat back down, her sparks faded from her fingertips and receded into her skin, her matted hair deflated and now clung to the sticky sweat along her neck. She groaned, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the table she sat up against. Every part of her was sore and aching from the fight. Her adrenaline subsided and she was left alone with the carnage of her battle.

No, not alone. A hand rested on her shoulder. Amy nearly got back into the fight, was about to snap up and take a swing. But she saw her friend kneeling next to her with eyes that were brown and tired but fulfilled. Her friend's pale, soft skin and black tresses had returned. There was no trace of the dragon she had morphed into.

Amy melted into her touch, leaning closer to her rock for support. Penelope let her fall into her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as Amy rested on her's.

It struck Amy, as she stared wide-eyed at the toddler and his mother laying with cut throats on the floor not too far from her, just what had transpired. The raw violence and the murder of families. Her father sprung back into her head and memories of him clouded her vision. Amy couldn't stop the vomit that bubbled and burst from her, full of the sorrow of what she'd seen and the disgust she felt for what she'd done to other living people today. Penelope could have retracted herself in disgust, act like Amy was being shameful, or drop her from the hug; it was what Amy knew Cody would do. Penelope pulled her closer instead, and let Amy cry her silent tears and regain herself in her squishy arms.

Amy sniffed once and rose to a standing position, Penelope right by her side. The girls looked at each other for a beat before speaking.

"We gotta get home...Our families could be in danger right now," Amy said. Penelope nodded fervently.

"But what about the press?" Penelope asked, knowing there must be reporters outside who had covered the scene.

"I have friends who can handle it, but honestly," she took a weary breath, "I don't even care anymore. I just want to get home and keep my family safe," Amy said. "I think I should warn you, though, that my friends are going to have to intervene with the twins, Akua, and you now. And all of your families. You'll all probably be moved to safehouses until this blows over."

"I'm more worried about you. You're the target," Penelope said. Amy shook her head.

"Hellqvist can use you to get to me, and he will. I want you to go with my friends to the safehouse," Amy asked. Penelope scoffed and crossed her arms.

"I'm Korean, you know, and we know a bit about survival. My dad taught me that. I can protect my family without help. Especially without government help," she said defiantly. Amy snatched her shoulder and looked desperately into her eyes.

"No, you need to let them help you. I need you and our friends safe. For me, please," Amy begged. Penelope sighed and waved her hand, a silent gesture meant to say that she consented. Amy let out a breath of relief.

Amy began hobbling towards the exit, ready to bat off ridiculous reporters. The only thing she wanted to do was get back to her family. The only thing on her mind was what was going on with her mother. _Is she safe? Did Hellqvist get to her too? Where is she? Is our home secure?_ Amy wondered. She hobbled faster, Penelope walking steadily as she kept up. Amy needed to know. She needed to get home.

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**Thank you so much for reading and if you feel up to it be sure to leave a (drama-free) review! Until next time!**

**Also, Penelope's perspective on how well-adjusted to survival and war her race is comes from this amazing art/comic poem that I read on tumblr. Basically, it was about a woman who's father served in the Korean War and faced many hardships there, and he taught her that that was what being Korean was all about: facing hardships. She disagreed with him, but didn't want to refuse his teachings. It was a very interesting perspective somebody might have on their own race and I loved the depth of it, so I thought, "Maybe Penelope's grandfather or something could have influenced her to think a similar way; that being Korean is suffering but its also strength." I don't actually hold any opinions on what it's like to be Korean, since I'm not Korean. This alternative perspective is just here for my character's development. I didn't know whether it would come off offensive or not, had to throw this lil' explanation in there.**


	7. Chapter 7 - Incentive

**I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO UPLOAD. It's not even complete, it's half of the chapter I was going to post but I figured I've kept you guys waiting so long you deserve it now. My mental disorders have been kicking my ass lately, I'm really sorry. I'll try to stay more motivated and return to my regular schedule but right now I can barely even write and when I do it isn't the quality I normally hold myself to. The worst part is that I was going to go to the doctor to get medication, which I've had to deal without for three years and I was so excited for it and then TWO DAYS before the appointment my psychiatrist pushes me back a month! That was a huge blow. So things are super crappy and while I will not be discontinuing or putting this story on hiatus, updates may take a bit longer now.**

**S/O to our reviewers! ShigureAyameHatoriFanClub, debatable-cerealkiller, and MudSkipper001 gave me great reviews that made me really happy while reading! A shoutout to the new favorites and followers: It199789, MudSkipper001, and WhoPotterAvenge-X Kane gave me favorites and follows! Thanks so much guys! Your presence really encourages me!**

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**Chapter 7 - Incentive**

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**Several hours earlier...**

Tony walked through the darkness of his home, not bothering to turn on a light as he entered the kitchen. It was something simple and modern with a breakfast nook sat nearby. Standing next to the nook, Tony noticed a second too late, was a tall man stood strong and authoritative. Tony glanced from the direction of the entrance hall to the man, wondering how he got in. Tony took a sip from his glass of whiskey, taking a few steps towards the ominous figure.

"Mr. Stark," the man spoke first, "I'm here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative."

Tony blinked once, frowned, and flexed his eyebrows.

"The what?" He asked with a hint of snide and another sip of his glass. Fury stepped forward into the light let in by the large windows that rose from floor to ceiling. He walked past Tony, who turned to keep Fury in his sights, and slapped a manila folder marked with the title, "Avengers Initiative," on the kitchen counter. Fury glanced at Tony from the corner of his eye, inviting the tech genius to investigate. Tony appeared impassive but the way he snatched the folder from its place was patently eager. He scanned through the pages with curiosity.

"My name is Director Fury of SHIELD," Fury told Tony, who nodded once and continued scanning over the pages, interest draining the further he read. "I'm forming a team of remarkable people. People who will be there when everything else fails. People that I believe can defend us when nothing else can. I want you for that team."

Tony dropped the folder on the counter with bored apathy and took a swig of his drink, looking entirely uninterested.

"Of course this team will also be confidential. We don't entirely believe the world is ready for this team to be public just yet-"

"No," Tony interrupted plainly. Fury's head tilted to the side, a fractal of flabberghast he allowed to be seen.

"No?"

"Uh, yeah. I nearly died a few nights ago. I'm not interested in joining a team where that happens every day. Not doin' it," Tony said simply. Fury continued staring at him.

"You're not interested?" He asked to confirm. Tony did with a short nod. Fury huffed once in an annoyed tone and pulled another manila folder from his jacket. He slapped that one on the counter. It was the same as the last one, but a large red stamp across it read, "classified," and in typewriter print a codename was written across the top of the folder. "The Mirage," it read. Tony's fingers itched to pick it up. They twitched once as he stared at it, but then he snapped his dark brown eyes to Fury.

"What's this supposed to be?" He asked.

"Something interesting," Fury said as he started walking to an exit. "Consider it incentive. Let me know how you feel about the Avengers after reading it."

Fury was gone, walking down the hall to exit Tony's mansion. Tony stole a glance at the folder again, curiosity sweeping in his eyes and hanging on his dry lips. He took another swig of his drink, depleting the last of it, and grabbed the folder.

He swept through its first page, reading names and birthdates and personality profiles. A picture of a girl of about fifteen with striking brown eyes and dark brown fluffy hair and a boxy nose reminiscent of his own sat next to her stats on her profile. Tony refilled his glass and walked down the stairs to his workshop, reading as he went.

"JARVIS," he called as he sat on a stool next to a cluttered table.

"Yes, sir," JARVIS responded.

"I want you to look up Amy Mercad. Find me everything you can on her," Tony ordered. Not a moment later JARVIS returned.

"It appears that Amy Mercad does not exist, sir," JARVIS stated.

"She's got some aliases on this file. Look up Joanna Maurice, Mariah Nevana, and Alexandria Stern," Tony requested. JARVIS came back a minute later.

"I have files on all of these girls. Would you like me to read them to you?"

"Sure."

"Joanna Maurice: No known records until 2001. Was a Swedish child and daughter of Natalie and Francis Maurice. Neither of her parents had records until 2001. Joanna was seen for one week in Sweden with her parents and then dropped from the radar, never to be seen again. She and her parents disappeared shortly after the murder of Vendela and Rasmus Hellqvist, two wealthy and popular socialites. Rasmus was about to enter politics. They were found to have been the bosses of a human trafficking company during the investigation of their murder. Their son Tomas, who almost nobody had ever heard of, was spared - but he disappeared shortly after his parents' deaths."

Tony leaned forward and rested his elbows on the work table in front of him, head hanging over the papers in the folder.

"Mariah Nevana: No known records until 2005. She moved to New Jersey in 2005 with parents Caitlyn and Brenard Nevana. The family lived there until earlier this year. They too dropped from the radar."

Tony flipped a page in the folder. The current one sat dedicated to a list of relatives and rankings among SHIELD's top agents.

"Alexandria Stern: No known records until earlier this year. Lives in Brentford, London, England with her parents Cassandra and Briton Stern. Recently turned sixteen. Alias still active."

Tony sat with his head in his hands, staring down at the woman listed as Amy's mother. Her profile picture held a smile that he remembered fondly but it wasn't reaching her eyes. Her eyes held a glare he remembered less fondly. Tony let out a low sigh, mind flickering through memories of how soft her corn yellow hair was and how smooth her lips were and how she had a horrible sense of humor but it didn't matter whether or not people laughed at her jokes because she did. He remembered her crassness, her protective nature, and her want for something better. His throat burned long before he took another drink of alcohol. His eyes fogged over when he thought of the day she had left. The name they gave her on this profile was Catherine Mercad, but he knew her by a different name. A name that was sweet like cherry wine that he hadn't had a glass of in years. How many years? Probably about sixteen or seventeen now that he thought about it. He wondered where the time had gone.

"Sir, are you alright?" JARVIS asked. Tony rubbed a hand over his eyes and sunk further into a hunch. He took a long drought of his drink, eyes still scanning over the page when he read a disturbing line. He choked on his beverage. Tony hacked and coughed with bulging red eyes still trying to read what was on the paper. He read it over and over again, making sure that it was real. It was. He could feel his stomach sinking and bile rising. He took in exactly what he had read meant.

"Sir?" JARVIS called, voice scratched with concern.

"Yeah, JARVIS," Tony responded with strain. "How fast can the suit fly?" He asked curtly.

"We hit Mach 4 and a little bit over while evading the F-22 raptors, sir. I'm certain we can hit Mach 5 if we tried."

"How long would it take to get to Brentford, London at that speed?"

"Three hours and forty-two minutes sir, giving thirty minutes for take off and landing."

Tony let out a hollow breath, collapsing into his hands as he hung over the table. Something was roiling in his stomach and he couldn't tell whether it was vomit or excitement or curiosity or fear. Whatever it was it sat unpleasantly, aching worse for every second he didn't do anything about it. He swallowed once, grabbed his glass, and stood.

"Get the suit ready, JARVIS," he called, voice coming out more sure than he had expected. JARVIS hopped on his order immediately. Tony got into the place he needed to be as the suit was assembled around him. Machines whirred, gears turned, metal clicked with metal as the pieces of Iron Man banded together. The helmet came last, fitting itself snugly about his head. The face mask snapped shut, a metallic clank echoing in the empty workshop.

His systems blinked online, bright blue holographic displays scattering all about his visor's screen. Power to the thrusters kicked in and he was off. Gold and red rocketed through the net of the cosmos as Tony flew.

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**The second half of this chapter will be uploaded by next Saturday and the chapter after that shortly after. Thank you for being patient with me. See you guys soon!**


	8. Chapter 8 - Q&A

**Oh my god guys we've hit 1,000 views and nearly 400 visits! I cannot believe that honestly. I want to give a huge thank you to everybody reading this, even if you only clicked on it and don't plan on reviewing or following, even if you utterly hate this, I just wanna thank you for reading and getting this far! That means so much to me. I want to thank JustAnotherFairy for becoming my 17th follower! You're cool and grand and I love you. Also ShigureAyameHatoriFanClub and debatable-cerealkiller (I have your usernames memorized now) left me very kind reviews and all I can say in response to them is that we're starting to go down a very twisty, very twisted path with this story. Buckle up.**

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**Chapter 8 - Q&amp;A**

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Sirens fretted over the mayhem and the sounds of a muffled fight came through horribly in the ears of the civilians. Almost every ambulance the hospitals could offer addressed patients injured in the attack, emergency respondents treated as many as they could but like butter they were spread too thin. Patients shivered as they remembered what they'd seen. Vomit coated the pavement and blood washed it too. A child sat screaming with a paramedic attempting to console him as he screamed for mothers that were slain. Police officers stood authoritative as they lined the entrance to the mall, buffering any gutsy reporters from entering. They waited impatiently for their SWAT team to assemble as lengthy minutes turned into a painful hour filled with gnawed off nails and disturbance bubbled in their stomachs. As the SWAT team grew finally ready to enter, a camera came to life and a reporter began her job.

"My name is Lilith Kaur and I'm reporting for Sky news," a Hindu woman with long black hair and a skin color deep like the woods spoke. "A little over an hour ago an anonymous group, led by a man said to be named Tomas Hellqvist, attacked here today. Many civilians fled, but many more were cut down. Families were slain in their seats as the terrorists attacked. Hellqvist himself said that they were searching for a girl named Amy Mercad. It's unclear who that girl may be but witnesses suggest she may be one of two vigilantes who saved the day here with, '_unnatural abilities_.' A Caucasian female was said to have..._shot lightning_? What- is this a joke? Are you joking right now?" Lilith stopped and asked the staff manning her cue cards. The man shook his head behind the camera and flipped to the next card. "Are you kidding me?" Lilith said distastefully as she read the next card. "Apparently our second female, assumed to be Asian, _turned into a dragon_," Lilith threw her hands up. "I don't know what to tell you."

She sighed irritably when the next card instructed her exactly what to tell her audience.

"It seems like," she said with fake cheer popping sarcastically, "that there may be some powerful heroes in London." She flashed a pearly-toothed smile that was sickly sardonic.

Two glass doors swung wide open and two abused teenage girls stepped out. The reporters flew into action as if they'd been whipped, pressing against the police barricade like lungs against caved-in ribs. Lilith forced her way to the front of the crowd, elbowing several other news anchors in the face, and caught the brown eyes of the two teenage girls who were supposedly something super.

Amy and Penelope stood in the flashing lights bloody and bruised. Countless reporters pushed forward and shouted their questions at them in a manic frenzy.

"Which of you is Amy Mercad?"

"Amy, do you blame yourself for this attack?"

"What is your relationship with Tomas Hellqvist? Why is he after you?"

"Hey, you!" A reporter called out and pointed to Amy. "How'd you get your hair like that?"

"Is Tomas Hellqvist an ex-boyfriend with a vendetta?"

"Are you girls mutants?"

"Where'd your powers come from?"

"What kind of exercise do you do?"

"Amy, Hellqvist alleges you killed his parents. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"What diet are you on?"

"How'd you two fight off twenty assassins?"

The girls stood blinking at the flashes of the cameras with hands cast over their faces. Several police officers pushed past them and into the shopping mall to arrest the remaining assassins. Others attempted to escort the girls through the crowd of reporters harassing them. Their questions bared down on Amy and something in her burned to answer them. To put out a statement and be something strong. She whipped around, just in time to come face to face with her boyfriend. His blue eyes locked with her browns, staring intently down at her and before she knew it he had swept her up into his arms and held her there tightly. She laid her head over his chest like the action felt foreign and off. It collapsed on her, in between the invasive questions and the accusations by the press, all of them urging that it must be her fault, that it might have been. She remembered the one thing she did that could have caused this. The one rule she broke that you are never supposed to. She had given out her real name. She had given out her real name and now he had tracked her down. Amy wondered for a flash if one of her friends had betrayed her. Had they sold her out to him?

The blood pounded in her skull as she detached herself from Cody looking ghostly white. She shivered where she stood, arms draped around herself, a daze cast over her. The cameras were blinding, the officers were pushing for her to move, the reporters were hounding. Their words felt like mutts biting at her heels as she walked. Amy stared at each of her friends collecting around her, trying to pick out the backstabber. Looking in all of their faces full of dread for her well-being and concern for how pale she was, Amy became doubtful the villain was among her. Carol held a napkin wet with saliva and rubbed it over the blood coating Amy's cheeks. She screamed at reporters who got too near quite often. Christy was violently shoving the hounds away. Akua clung close to Penelope but he would cast his gaze down to Amy, eyes with concern matched with the look he gave Penelope. No, it was none of them.

Amy nearly tripped, nearly fell face-first into pavement and would have mangled herself further if it hadn't been for a pair of hands gripping her shoulders tightly. She was roughly pulled up and pushed to move forward by her boyfriend.

"Cody," Amy called out to him when they were close to the end of the crowd. Cody ignored her and pushed past. "Cody!" She called out again. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled on it to gain his attention. "Cody, what's wrong?"

Cody stopped and looked at her sourly.

"That guy says that you killed his family, Amy. I just...I don't know what to do with you right now," he said as he turned back around, abandoning her in a sea of reporters frenzied once more by Cody siding with them. Tears formed on the creased lids of Amy's eyes and electricity bristled in her mane as she looked at Cody's retreating form. She reached out for him again, but he smacked her hand away. Amy sniffed and yanked on the back of his shirt.

"Listen to me!" She begged him. Cody turned back around, staring down at Amy threateningly. Amy hung silent under his stare, not expecting to see him look at her so venomously.

"Look," she began shakily, but her voice grew stronger as she spoke, "Tomas is fixated on me and blames me for his own reasons. All I know is that I didn't kill his parents. I was nine-years-old, there's no way I could've. I was just a witness, like he was." Amy pushed out her next words like they were begging her to swallow them back in. She turned to press when she spoke them. "I know that I'm not going to fight him. If Tomas Hellqvist wants to sort this out we can sort this out diplomatically. I'm not interested in violence. I'm interested in getting Tomas help with whatever mental issues are clearly affecting him and with protecting civilians with a peaceful agreement. Justice for the murdered families here today can be sorted out by a jury, but I'm not one. I'm not going to dish out justice. I'm not playing vigilante here. Tomas, if you want to meet a resolve for our issues this is how we'll do it. One-on-one, talking it out, and then turning yourself in."

A million more questions popped up about whether or not she genuinely thought this was a good idea. Amy didn't know what she thought. She didn't know if her solutions were good enough. She didn't know if, compared to the power and influence of Hellqvist, she was good enough. Everything seemed small and insignificant, and what small bit of confidence she had was eroding until it was smooth and slippery and full of holes like a stone washed by the waves. Amy moved forward, breaking from the crowd, with her friends by her side and officers trying to escort her to an ambulance.

"Cody, can you drive me home?" She asked quietly, tuning out the officers trying to persuade her to seek medical attention.

Cody whipped around looking entirely livid. He sucked in air and exhaled it like a hurricane, his face was red like the color you tempt bulls with, and Amy was certain he was in fact the bull and was about to charge at her any second. She cast a force field between herself and him just to be safe. At the sight of the purple glow of Amy's shield, Cody eased into something calmer. His fingers brushed through his hair and his breaths became slower. He took a hard look at Amy through the force field and contemplated his issues in his mind. He let out a final breath and turned back around, shoulders relaxed and his tense expression hidden.

"Get in the car," he told Amy. Amy let out a sigh of relief, dropped her force field, and walked behind her boyfriend. She struggled to keep up with a sprained ankle and he offered no help but she figured this was okay. Penelope caught her for a brief second, clutching her arm desperately before Amy walked away.

"Be careful with him," she warned to Amy quietly before pushing the girl off.

"What was that about?" Akua asked Penelope after Amy and Cody were out of earshot. Penelope wiped her bloody nose and held herself with shoulders tense.

"You notice the way he treats her?" She asked. Akua was quiet.

"I notice the way he treats everybody, but Amy definitely gets the worst of it," he said. Penelope nodded.

"I'm just worried he's going to hurt her," she said. Akua wrapped a kind arm around her shoulders and the two began walking to an ambulance nearby.

"We can give him the fuck-with-her-you-fuck-with-us talk after this whole Hellqvist thing comes to a conclusion. They'll be separated for a long time anyways while her _friends_ set us all up in different safehouses, as you said she said they would. Amy'll be far apart from him. Hopefully in that time she realizes how little she needs the asshole and dumps him the next time she sees him," Akua resolved. Penelope nodded once more.

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Driving with Cody was lengthy and arduous. There wasn't any talking or radio playing, but the tense air spoke for them. Cody sat with his knuckles white as he clenched the steering wheel, glancing at Amy from time to time with a furious gaze. Amy picked under her fingernails and fretted inside her mind of potential outcomes and worst case scenarios. Her anxiety swept her up off her feet and ran with her. It felt like nothing pleasant. Panic seized her chest and air became a commodity she couldn't afford. No matter how deeply she breathed she couldn't fill her lungs. It reminded her of drowning and the sensation of her helplessness ghosted in the hollow bits of her. Shivers shook down her spine. Her chest seized. Her racing heart couldn't keep up and skipped beats. Amy gripped her hurting chest as worry stole her breath. The world around Amy floated off and became a blurred mess she couldn't focus on. Reality became only the imminent death of her family and the panic she felt for it. Cody kept driving.

"It's interesting you don't want to hurt Hellqvist for what he did to your dad," he commented more to himself than to Amy as he turned a corner.

A hook caught Amy by the back of her sweater and reeled her to reality again. She lifted her head, fighting its heaviness on her own. Confusion swelled in her where anxiety had once been.

"Hellqvist didn't do anything to Dad," she said, eyebrows furrowed, empty loss in her eyes. Cody actually laughed. His smile was the radiant sun that Amy had fallen in love with and it reminded her of their first meeting in a musky room that was stuffed despite its emptiness. That reminded her of this car, of this Cody she knew now, and it posed the question of what went wrong.

"Amy, Hellqvist killed him. Didn't you watch the broadcast?" He said. Amy floated back into the disassociative abyss.

"He's not dead," she said from there.

"We all watched him get shot, Amy," Cody insisted. A storm glowed behind Amy's eyes and lightning sparked up her veins.

"_He's not dead!_" She screamed with a voice like a clap of thunder. For once, it was Cody who was silenced. "He's not dead," Amy whispered to herself.

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**Okay the next chapter is going to have action! I think. Tell me, would a car chase and like another whole awesome bout of ass-kicking be cool? Because I want to go Micheal Bay with the action here but I don't know if it fits. Screw it, I'm writing a car chase badass action scene whether it fits or not. I am the writer, thus I am God. God says they want explosions. And reviews.**


	9. Chapter 9 - Tired Already

**I am so sorry for that impromptu hiatus. I didn't plan it and I hope it won't happen again. I'm really sorry I had that lack of consistency but I'm doing better, I'm on meds, and I've gotten my life in order so I think I'll be better at continuing this story on time.**

**Also, I think I'm going to make a Version 2 of this where I cut out certain chapters and forgo the prologue and make it a legit part of the chapter. Debatable-cerealkiller once told me that my story was good, but that it wasn't as attention-grabbing as it could be. I think that removing the prologue and integrating it with the whole story by making it a chapter, rearranging other chapters, cutting others out completely, and shaving the extra unnecessary bits will make the story a lot better. I'll still continue this version and I'll see it through its estimated 30 chapters, but once this is done I want to hop right on improving. #ShitIWouldHaveKnownEarlierIfIHadABeta #AlwaysGetABetaKids #AlwaysGetABeta**

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**Chapter 9 – Tired Already**

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Amy skin swiveled and stirred as it stitched itself together. Her blood corrected their flow and softened her bruises. Her heart pumped out the blood she needed. Her body kept this precious girl going. It did its best to take care of her, to treat her well, to keep her safe. But no matter how hard it tried, Amy was tired. Her battle had just begun but she was so tired and she knew that today would cling to her eyelids and flicker like a movie on a screen every time she blinked. Amy's body shuddered in its place at the thought that this was inescapable. In all of its guilt for what it had done, her body tried even harder to cure her. Amy's chest heaved, lungs swelling magnificently and deflating slowly as her diaphragm pressured them to shrink. A sigh from Amy's weary spirit. Her head lolled back against the chair, her eyes closed, and the darkness swallowed her vision whole. Sleep lead the dance while tightly pressed to Amy's being. It wove her and it across a room, both wispy like vapor. It dipped her in ease, washing her dark hair and features with the bleached pale moon her imagination conjured.

A plunge deep in the pit of her stomach awoke her. Amy's eyes skippered open and her heartbeat thundered once more in her chest. She realized the car had swerved drastically. Cody barely recovered in time to avoid running onto the sidewalk and into a shop. He gripped the steering wheel tightly with grit teeth, weaving back and forth among the cars on the road and accelerating his speed. Amy took frantic, exhaustive breaths as she looked for a villain to fight.

"What's going on?" She asked Cody with panic.

"Hellqvist's guns for hire, what else?" He answered, pushing his small and pathetic car to move faster. Amy tossed her gaze to the side view mirror. Behind them two heavily armored cars comparable to tanks overturned civilian's cars and shoved them off-road as it approached Amy and Cody. Four motorcyclists sped ahead and weaved through traffic the armored cars were too slow to push past. Their skin tight black suits rippled slightly in the breeze and their faceless black helmets glared down at their targets. Their bodies twinged with excitement at the thrill of the chase, themselves the wolves and their target the frail baby deer. As one signaled something to the other, Amy spun around and sunk into her seat.

"They're chasing us," she squeaked.

"Yeah," Cody said obviously.

"That's bad," she followed up. Cody narrowly avoided causing a collision as he cut off somebody.

"Yeah," he said again, more irritated.

The world rumbled as an explosion resounded behind them. Road and dirt blossomed like a spring flower, casting their debris fifteen feet upwards. Civilian cars were blasted back and off the road, making a clear path to Cody and Amy. The motorcyclists artistically waxed and waned as they dodged the falling debris.

"We're going to die," Amy decided. "Take evasive action!" She urged. Cody slammed the brakes as a massive chunk of pavement was thrown in front of them. "Not like that!" Amy exclaimed and Cody floored the gas and swerved along the road again.

"Wow, I didn't know that stress was going to turn you into such a snappy bitch," Cody said with a laugh as he nearly crashed on a turn. Amy bristled with annoyance.

"Why do you have to be like this?" Her pitch raised and her voice strained with all her pent up hurt from being Cody's emotional punching bag. "Why do you have to always put me down? Why can't you try being nice for once?" Amy tried to level herself, to let it go, but goddammit she had been letting it go for so long and she was so sick of it and her imminent death didn't help much to brighten her mood.

"Do you really want to do this right now?" Cody's point was emphasized by another explosion behind them.

"Well, we're going to die soon anyways because your shitty driving is letting those guys catch up, so why not discuss this right now?" Amy argued. The motorcyclists only a few feet behind them emphasized her point.

"Okay, you want evasive action? Fine! Here's fucking evasive action," Cody said as he drove into oncoming traffic, now weaving among cars that blared their horns and barely dodged him. The cars seeing them coming dove out of the way, making space for the two of them to drive through without hesitation. Their speed accelerated, but the higher risk of crashing wasn't something Amy was happy about.  
"This doesn't answer my questions," Amy said.

"It's easy to be so shitty to you," Cody answered surprisingly fast. Amy paused with momentary surprise. "Honestly though, Amy, I could be a lot worse to you. A whole lot worse."

"Why is it so easy?" Amy asked gently over the sound of a civilian scream and the sight of a car rolling in her peripheral. Cody stared at the road ahead of him intently, mouth poised to answer her.

A thunk on the back of their car interrupted the conversation. Amy caught a brief glimpse of black leather crawling onto the roof of the car before it vanished. _Shit_, she thought, casting a force field over the ceiling with a wince just as a katana's blade punctured through, snapping its tip off on her shield. The blade retracted quickly and Amy began rolling down her window.

"What are you doing?!" Cody shouted. Amy gave no response. She crawled out of the window and hoisted herself onto the roof of the car. Cody huffed and grumbled about his girlfriend and the enemy and how pissed he would be if they fucked up his car.

Hair whipped in the wind and grips were hard to come by where Amy stood. The short surface she was planted on could really only fit one person. Now she stood there facing another, sharing room neither of them easily held. There wasn't any running away here. Amy would barely have room to dodge. Her opponent stood still on the other end of the car and drew a second katana, their blacked out visor holding a gaze on Amy. They waited for her to make the first move, body pulsating with an eagerness to fight.

Amy blinked once, frowned, and flexed her eyebrows. An embodiment of unimpressed. With a flick of her wrist she sent a force field propelling at the assassin, knocking him off the roof of the car with a Willhelm scream. A smirk touched her lips and she turned to climb back into her car when a second assassin jumped on board.

This one wasted no time with their attack. Legs swung at Amy wildly, big and muscled and painful to block. She took two steps back and nearly slipped over the windshield onto the hood. Her hands flew up and across as she tried to block the punches and kicks. _This person is inhumanly fast,_ she spared a moment to think. Too long of a pause and her teeth clacked together painfully. A right hook had caught her off guard. Amy cried out and fumbled to keep her feet planted solid in her daze.

A round kick cracked her ribs and sent her sideways down the side of the car, slamming onto the door and window. Her hand gripped the roof rack desperately, her side screaming at her in pain, her head aching too bad to keep her grip much longer. With a wince she tossed out two force fields, one tying her hands to the rack and the other keeping a foothold on the door she was being dragged with.

Amy wiped her sweat from her forehead with her free hand, a mean glare in her eye and a grunt sitting low in her throat. Her free hand clapped onto the rack, her foot kicked up from its hold. With agonizing effort she flipped up to catch her opponent's neck between her calves. With python grip Amy held them. She dragged them down lower, hand catching the roof rack once more and holding it tightly in her fingers. Amy threw both her opponent and herself overboard with a flip.

Her bad side slammed onto the side of the car again and Amy howled in pain. How she still gripped the rack in this pain, she didn't know. Behind her, the enemy she'd thrown away crashed onto the road in a bloody mess. Amy's stomach twisted as she watched the blood ooze and stripe the roadway as their body tumbled away. She winced and turned away.

With heaving breaths she climbed back onto the roof. Standing was a slow hassle that she loathed as she straightened her back as much as it could. A groan fell out of her as she clutched her side, hunching forward further. The wind tossed her hair into her face and got caught in the sticky blood that dripped from her nose. Her body ached, her mind clouded by defensive panic. But up here at least it was quiet. At least the cold wind soothed her aching skin slightly. Amy's electricity bristled over the surface of her skin, lacing over her and recharging her batteries with a new vigor. She drew a deep breath through her nose, shutting her eyes and enjoying the cold wind and the momentary peace.

"What's next?" She asked the air, defeated in her tone but sparks pumping through her and readying her for the next fight.


	10. Chapter 10 - Iron and Glass

**OH MY GOD GUESS WHO SAW AGE OF ULTRON? IT WAS ME! I got an early screening on the 30****th****! No spoilers, I promise, but it was so good! The action and the comedy was on point. Unfortunately, there was a very shoehorned romance that killed the movie and Natasha's characterization was just...NOT good. And then there were two events of the film that made me want to punch Joss Whedon in the face, not counting the shitty romance and the bad characterization of THE BEST CHARACTER IN MARVEL. Get yo shit together, Whedon! Anyways, thanks debatable-cerealkiller for another review! You really brighten my days on here. And a major thank you to all who followed and favorited. Y'all are the best!**

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**Chapter 10 – Iron and Glass**

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Cody braked on the curb beside Amy's house at whiplash speed. Amy tumbled from the roof and Cody jumped out of the car to help her up. She stood on her own, deeply in pain but on her own. Cody came to her side anyways. He took one look at her beaten body and sighed. Amy was so bloody. Whether the blood was from her or someone else, he couldn't tell. An eye was swollen underneath a growing bruise. She leaned against him, hunched and favoring one side.

"We shouldn't be here," he spoke into her ear softly. "We could be walking into an ambush."

"My mom could be in there," Amy said as she pushed off of him and walked forward alone. Her voice was far off and vacant. She wasn't truly paying attention to him, Cody knew, and she probably wasn't going to come back to reality at all until she knew her loved ones were safe. Cody figured he should count himself lucky she responded to him at all.

"Amy," he called to her, grabbing her arm in a firm grip. She winced and snatched herself back. "Amy!" Cody stared at her intently. Amy knew his face conveyed one of two things: great concern or great anger. She couldn't tell which.

"What is your problem?" She posed this question softly, genuinely curious and non-rhetorical. Cody paused. He licked his upper lip in apprehension, skittish eyes avoiding meeting her's as he contemplated what he would say next.

"You look like a girl I used to know," he blurted out the answer to a question Amy had left behind in the high-speed chase. His words gushed now and were harsh in whisper. "She was a backstabber. She was a backstabber and you look just like her, Amy. God, you even have the same name as her. That's why I get so angry with you and I act like such a jerk, okay? Because you look like her, and she was a bitch."

Amy blinked in surprise. Cody continued:

"I hate her, but I love you. And you look just like her and I'm just...so confused."

"I'm not her," Amy said, reaching up and cupping his cheek in her palm gently. He pulled away.

"You have no idea how much you're like her," he said and sent a stab of pain into Amy.

"But I love you, Cody," Amy insisted. "I've love you! The very first time I saw you I knew I loved you. That we were...sort of meant for each other. It was as if we'd met before and I'd known you forever," Amy's hand laid on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around her waist.

"I love you too. Probably the only one who ever will," Cody said. Amy blinked away the wetness in her eye and when Cody kissed her she accepted it with no objections. Her lips were thicker than his, but he dominated the kiss. Dominating, but for the first time in their relationship he was gentle. It made the sweet taste of cherry on his lips sweeter. It made her want him to take her deeper. Instead, he broke off the kiss after what felt like a mere moment. "Go. Go in there, get your mother, and we'll get out of here. We'll go somewhere safe, understand?" Amy couldn't protest. The way Cody gripped her, the way his tone set, his glaring blue eyes. All she could do was nod. "Okay," and he let her go.

Amy trotted quickly to her front door, pulling her keys from her pocket to unlock it. She pulled the door open fearfully. She took a step inside.

The door closed behind her with a soft creak. The hallway was dark. There was no noise and Amy knew her mother couldn't possibly be home. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. _Somebody else might be here_, she thought in the dark. She rolled tense shoulders and bit her lower lip. Instincts took over and sent the tingles of invisibility through her body. Amy masked her breathing, completely vanishing as she recalled Cody's warning that there could be a trap. She took measured steps down the carpeted hallway, feeling sticky with the blood of recent combat and fear.

The silence was snapped. A machine-like whir, soft but definite, escaped from the living room. A gasp stuck in Amy's throat. A heavy step fell onto the floorboards and Amy knew somebody was in her house. Somebody who didn't belong. She couldn't move another step. She was blind and frozen in place as the noises crept closer. Amy would later blame her curiosity and deny all fear. Oh no, it was totally curiosity that kept her eyes wide and intent on the archway she knew to be at the end of the hall. She totally wasn't paralyzed with fear or anything like that.

Her heartbeat pounded hard in her ears, kept in time with the footfalls approaching. Not one muscle twitched.

All at once a massive beast stood in the archway. Wide enough to fill it, tall enough to nearly scrape the top of it. It bore down the hall with menacing blue eyes that glowed ominously. Amy, sensing its presence, raised an invisible hand slowly.

"I don't see anything," the beast said suddenly, spooking Amy to flinch. It's voice was deep, harsh, and metallic.

"I detect a very distinct heat signature," a second voice responded, slightly muffled within the suit. Amy recognized this one's accent as one of a posh Londoner. It too sounded inorganic.

"Let me see in thermals," the first voice requested. _Now or never_, Amy thought and blasted a ball of electric energy from her palm.

The beast ducked with a, "Whoa!" Her electric ball flew overhead, striking a lamp. It jumped from lamp to outlet to fuel the entire house with electricity. Lights flickered violently. The beast crouched low and still. Amy whipped another electric ball into being, this time revealing her only her retinas so she could see where she was shooting. In the epileptic flashes the beast's armor winked hot red and gaudy gold. All at once recognition flooded Amy. Her electric ball dissipated in her palms. When the beast stood once more Amy finally revealed herself. The lights killed as the last of Amy – the tip of her nose – melted into visibility.

Tony immediately flipped the switch nearest to him, washing the hallway in pale yellow light. The young girl in front of him blinked to adjust. Tony took a look at her face and all at once recognition flooded him. _This is Amy,_ his consciousness told him the obvious. He stared at her, slightly stunned to actually be in the same room as her. He desperately wanted to take every aspect of this and memorize it, but he just couldn't let himself. Not when he was meeting her like this. He didn't think the first time he'd meet Amy she'd be beaten bloody and bruised. It wasn't like he pictured it. Considering what he'd read on her file, it struck him he shouldn't have expected anything less than this.

Looking at her further, she was more than beaten up. She looked absolutely mad, frantic, crazy. Her eyes bulged in their sockets, pupils shrunk to terrified specs. Was she scared of him? Or of memories? Her hair sat in a sparky disarray that curled tight like an afro, her body was taut but her fingers shook, the veins in her neck drummed visibly underneath her skin. The way her face twisted with distrust and fear...it was never a look he'd wanted to see on her.

It became apparent in the awkward silence where Amy's eyes would flick from him to the walls that he should say something. Anything. Just to break the ice. As if being shot by her freaky mutant abilities wasn't an icebreaker enough. He flipped up his mask so she could see his face during their first introduction.

"You tried to shoot me," came out, rather than any of the witty things he'd meant to say. That came out and it sounded accusatory and harsh. Tony wanted to wince at his own words.

Amy blinked. First, she's attacked at the mall on her _sixteenth birthday, no less_. Then, she's chased down the streets by mercenaries working for a madman who wants to kill her and her family. Now, she goes home to protect her family and finds some stranger in a giant metal suit _and he wonders why she shot at him?_ Amy couldn't tell how she felt. Some kind of tornado of confused, angry, and stunned.

"Iron Man is in my flat," was all that she could tell to herself, shaking her head as she drew back from her fighting stance. Fingers came to rest at her temple, rubbing in soothing circles. Amy took a deep breath through her nose and blew out her lips. Should she even try to make sense of this? _No_, she decided. Her life hadn't made sense since a meteor crashed into her swimming pool and mutated her. Hadn't been normal since SHIELD adopted her and made her an honorary agent. No, this was the fate she seemed doomed to. Weird as fuck and getting progressively worse. Her self-preservation was cringing and her curiosity was ecstatic.

"Listen," she began, "I have no patience, I need to find my mom, and SHIELD is gonna be on my ass in about two seconds. Tell me, _quickly_, why you're here," Amy said in her best impression of Natasha. Truly, her threatening undertones were to mask the ecstatic curiosity mentioned prior. Iron Man, in her house? There had to be some kind of reason, and it had to be awesome! Not to mention this was _Tony Stark!_ He probably knew everything about everything and could tell Amy about anything her mind was curious about.

"I'm looking for your mother," He answered.

"So am I. I want to save her life. What about you?" Suspicion tainted her curiosity. What the Hell would Tony Stark want with her mother? Had her mom been keeping secrets? _Your mother is a fifth generation spy, Amy, of course she's keeping secrets_, Amy reprimanded herself. _How is _the_ Tony Stark involved?_

"Her and I need to have a personal talk about something."

"Well, you should have scheduled an appointment. We're a bit busy right now," Amy said with a narrow stare and dry humor. _I'll deal with this bullshit later. I have to find Mom right now._

Amy opened her mouth to speak again, to dismiss Tony, when the door was kicked down with a boom. Glass from windows shattered throughout the house, the sound of it popping in her ears, feet crunching and crackling the shards as heavy bodies landed. Tony flipped his mask down and readied for attack as figures floated into Amy's home. Amy heaved a sigh. She pushed past Tony into the living room.

"You boys and girls had better not track any mud onto my mother's carpet," she warned the SHIELD agents in her in her living room with the a gentle touch of humor. Some smiled at her, others waved, one gave her a friendly, "Hiya, Amy!"

Amy's smile was there and gone in a flash. She turned around to explain to Tony what was going on, but found Clint standing just a few feet away from her instead. She closed the gap between them immediately, practically running into her instructor's arms. Amy gripped him tightly around his midsection. Clint had to awkwardly drape his arms over her shoulders, careful not to whack her head with his bow.

"You okay?" He whispered to her. Amy shook her head honestly, face buried in his shoulder. Clint nodded and Amy pulled away. She wiped a stress-induced tear from her eye and looked up at Clint. Partly for some kind of mentor-type guidance, partly because she needed to see a friendly face. "Have you heard?" He asked. _Of course she's heard_, Clint thought. _It was broadcast live right in front of her. Though, she may be in denial..._ The confused frown and pinched eyebrows confirmed it.

"Heard what?" She asked innocently.

"Amy, the mission to capture Hellqvist was a set up. He wasn't even there, and we suffered casualties," He explained slowly. Amy's eyes widened, her face becoming tight with refusal. "Natasha and three others made it out okay. But your dad, Amy... He didn't make it," Clint finished quietly.

"No," Amy whispered so quietly she was only mouthing the word. She shook her head violently, tears flicking from her eyes. She couldn't believe it - wouldn't if anybody else had told her. But this wasn't anybody else. This was the person she trusted most saying her father was dead. "_No_. _No. No!_" She screamed in growing volume, as if being louder could deny it. Clint pulled her close in a hug again as she cried. Tony stood helpless in the archway. The SHIELD agents were kind enough to pretend they didn't see.

"Amy, it's real. He's gone," Clint had to hammer the hard truth into her. He knew her tendency to live in denial. Still, it hurt to see her this way. To know she was crying because of what he'd told her. Because of what Hellqvist had done. His hand tightened around his bow. He'd kill that guy.

Amy took her last sniffle, a big gulp of air, and tried her best to compose herself when she separated from Clint.

"Don't worry, Amy, we'll get 'im," Clint assured her. Amy took a willowy breath.

"Where's my mom?" Her voice was hoarse.

"She's safe. We intercepted her while she was at a grocery store. She's well on her way to a safehouse now," Clint informed her. Amy nodded. "We have to get going now. And that guy," Clint turned to Tony, "is going to have to come with us."

"Excuse me?"

"You've associated yourself with Amy, showed up at her residence, so now we have to take you to a safehouse. Protocol."

"Listen, I can manage on my own, so-"

"This isn't about what you can do," Clint asserted. "This is about Amy. Anyone who may have any intel on her has to be put away where no one can find them. You are under threat and that puts Amy under threat, since Fury decided to make the call and show you her complete file. You're coming with us."

"This is kidnapping," Tony objected. Amy huffed. Clint rolled his eyes. A snappy comeback was on the tip of his tongue when Amy tugged on his sleeve. His attention immediately diverted to her.

"You have Cody too, right?" She asked softly, staring at the floor.

"We haven't found him yet."

Amy's head snapped up. Her eyes found their focus and stared eerily at Clint. His eyes swept from side to side as he avoided meeting Amy's gaze.

"Something wrong?" He asked.

"He was outside, where is he now?" Amy's hushed voice pressed him.

"I wouldn't know. There was nobody outside when we got here. The only thing there now are SHIELD agents," Clint told her. Amy looked down again.

"He...abandoned me," a quiet fell over Amy that her instructor knew wasn't going to break anytime soon. He opted to wrap an arm around her shoulders in a brotherly fashion.

"Sounds like a real asshole. You sure know how to pick 'em," Tony piped up. He was met with not just Clint's glare, but the glares of all the other SHIELD agents in the room. "Tough crowd..."

"Let's just go," Clint said. He led Amy out of her home, which she knew she'd never see again after this. Clint signaled for his agents to follow behind. Tony fell out last.

"I don't even have the tech to disassemble this," he grumbled, glaring at his metal shelling.

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Hellqvist sat in his office, drumming his fingers over his desk. His office was square, like most rooms, but his taste for candlelight over bulbs made it look rounder as the candelabra cast its shadow. Tiny glass sculptures and books on the history of wars adorned his wall-consuming bookshelves. On his mahogany desk two particular statues sat. An angel with a face carved like his mother's, arranged to appear to be grooming the powerful wings of an angel in his father's likeness. He blew out a short, depressed breath as he stared at them.

A rapping on his office doors disturbed him, but he had called for this person.

"Come in," he called in his Swedish husk.

A dark-haired woman, once confident and leering over a near-defeated Amy, wheeled in on a wheelchair. She stopped in the center of the room. The candelabra hung over her like a spotlight, shining on her failure. Hellqvist rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward.

"What happened?" He posed his question with a soprano lilt, punctuating each word with accusation.

"The damned Widow's Prodigy severed my spine is what happened," she growled out.

"Not to you," Hellqvist snapped. "The mission!"

The woman hung her head.

"We had anticipated her skill, her powers, and potential backup. We just didn't expect so much...emotion. Every punch carried the weight of her world in it. It made her stronger, all that caring," she explained. Hellqvist rose slowly.

"You are telling me," he said gently, "that the ball got dropped because she's empathetic?"

The woman nodded timidly.

Hellqvist exploded, throwing his treasured sculptures and books from their shelves.

"That is no excuse! There is no excuse! There is only your failure," he hissed and pointed a finger at her. "Amelia, I didn't hire you on sentiment. I hired you and your mercenaries because you said you could _win_." He threw his arms out. "What the Hell?!"

"We will win! Next time. After my spine heals," Amelia insisted. "Next time..."

"You're damn right."

Hellqvist finally calmed, sitting back in his chair. He ran a hand through his soft, pale locks.

"You said it was her..._sensitivity_ that gave her strength?" He asked. Amelia nodded. "We'll have to take that from her then. Rewrite the whole plan. Our top priority is now fucking up that girl's head as much as we can so that she's perfectly malleable," Hellqvist said. Amelia nodded once more and he knew she'd made the mental note. He reclined back in his chair, slipping into ease. Ease was a hard thing for him to come by lately. "How long until your spine heals, Amelia?" He asked conversationally.

"My healing factor should make me well again in a week," Amelia said. Hellqvist nodded.

"I'll see to it your comfortable during that period," he promised.

"Thank you, Tomas," Amelia said sweetly. "I can already wiggle my toes," she added.

"Good, good," Hellqvist nodded again. He stared intently at his glass angels on his desk. "Amelia," he called with a whisper. Amelia looked at him kindly, nostalgic of the days a lifetime ago when he was only a child and she would babysit him. Looking at him in this moment she saw once more the softhearted little boy. The boy who sat in her lap to eagerly hear her tell stories.

"Would you please tell me a story of my parents? You know, one from before I was born. Those are the interesting ones," he was almost pleading. Amelia gave him the same soft smile she would give him when he scraped his knee or stubbed his toe.

"Yes," she said, wheeling forward until she bumped into his desk. "Perhaps over a game of chess?" Hellqvist nodded and pulled the board from the shelf directly behind him. "Now," Amelia started as she set up the board, "this one is from back when I wore my natural blonde..."

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**Why did I just make my villain sympathetic? Goddammit, none of you coddle him! Also, remember to follow, favorite, or review if you enjoyed!**


	11. Chapter 11 - Safehouse

**Chapter 11 – Safehouse**

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The drive to the safehouse took hours. Amy didn't look up from the floor of the armored car that carried her. It wasn't like there was a window with sights to see. The car was claustrophobic and bleak. Everyone was ignoring one another. Amy didn't like it, but she didn't like a lot of things right now. Two SHIELD agents sat next to her, their armor brushing her shoulders. Two more were next to Tony, who'd insisted on staying with Amy.

_Whatever_, Amy had decided. She didn't care what Tony did. She didn't care about anything except getting to her mother. Amy had to protect her. She clenched her fist. She couldn't fail again.

She didn't know how she could tell, but she knew when they'd left London. She guessed it was the feeling of finality that tipped her off.

"Uh, Mr. Iron Man, sir," the SHIELD agent next to him piped up. Amy rolled her eyes.

"Please, no formalities. Tony will do fine," Tony answered.

"Well, sir- Tony, I was wondering if I could get a picture?" The agent asked.

The metal suit sat stiffer than before. Amy's detachment melted only a moment to stare at it curiously. The SHIELD agent was terrified, wondering if they'd offended him.

"Sure," Tony said at last. The agent breathed a sigh of relief and pulled a cellphone out from their pocket. "SHIELD let's you guys keep your phones on the job?" Tony asked as the agent moved closer and readied for a snapshot.

"No," they answered with a sly grin. Tony threw up a peace sign and the agent took the photo.

The safehouse was less like a house and more like a facility. It sat in a farmland full of tall grass and sloping hills. One would expect to see a farmhouse out here, so the grey, fenced in compound was an odd sight. Amy walked through the chain link gate two guards held open, passing through the barbed-wire lined fence. The grass tickled her ankles as she moved forward to the main doors. More SHIELD agents stood at attention up ahead. Cupping both the left and right corners of the fence were guard towers. _Good,_ she thought when she saw them. _We'll be safe._ Tony had a different opinion.

"Doesn't this seem like a prison?" He commented. "And why so dull? Or is it in the rulebook that anything SHIELD has to be utterly depressing?"

"Yeah, Article III Section II clearly states all SHIELD facilities and uniforms can only be grey, black, and navy blue to, 'make the right impression.' Also, any smiling while in uniform is forbidden," the agent who'd asked for a picture said. Tony snorted.

"She's not kidding," the agent on his left said.

"Wait, seriously?" Tony asked with a hint of suspicion.

"Yeah," the first agent said, her wolfish grin battling against her straight face. Her partner barely contained a chuckle.

When they reached the doors, two stoic-faced agents who genuinely seemed to have sticks inserted in their rectums stood guard. One flipped open a wall panel on the right of the doors. Amy held her eyelids open and let the stinging blue light sweep over her right eye.

"Welcome, Agent Stern," an AI greeted Amy by her alias. "Who is that you are with?"

The AI had orders to fire the automated weapons it controlled if Amy said any codewords alerting danger.

"Stand down, Vicki," Amy told the program.

"Yes, Agent Stern. Please submit your password and step inside."

Amy punched in her password and when the AI swung open the doors she walked in. Tony attempted to follow but the doors slammed shut in front of him.

"I'm sorry, but you must be registered in SHIELD's database to enter this facility. I can get you registered with a ten minute survey and DNA sample, if you'd like," Vicki said.

"Yeah, okay," Tony said dismissively. As soon as Tony said the words JARVIS hacked Vicki's system, pulling open the doors.

"Hey!" Vicki protested.

"My apologies, ma'am," JARVIS offered, retreating from the system once Tony had stepped inside.

Tony took a look around and was surprised to find the entry room brightly lit, colorful, and a lot like the lobby of a decent hotel. A wide hallway seemed to actually be _inviting_ him to explore it.

At the end of the hall Tony found a living room. Warm brown leather couches and ottomans made a community area in the center of the room, a red rug underneath. A TV hung on the wall in easy sight, cornered by shelves of films. Behind Tony right next to the entry were bookshelves carrying books by the hundreds of every possible genre. It was cozy and comfortable in this room, with many blankets thrown over the couch or sitting in a chair or on a desk. Hell, there was even a coffee and hot chocolate machine.

Tony didn't know what to do. To wait for somebody to find him or explore a bit? He wondered where Amy had went and wanted to find her. Tony scanned the room as if Amy was simply invisible and would give herself up under scrutiny. When she didn't appear, he decided he would move on and explore the compound some more.

* * *

Tony had seen the kitchen, the dining room, the training room, the bedrooms, the lobby, and the science lab. By the time he'd gotten back to the living room thirty minutes had passed. He sighed, completely bored. He wondered what movies SHIELD had stocked in the shelves. Without anything better to do, he wandered over to the shelf on the right and started picking through the movies.

None of them looked good to him. Tony leaned against the wall and gave the selection his most unimpressed look. A snarky remark about SHIELD's lack of taste was on his tongue when the sound of compressed air being released whispered behind him. There was a click as the wall sunk into itself, a shake, and suddenly the wall was gone. He fell backwards in his metal suit with a yelp.

Tony grunted as he stood up. The secret room he'd found held one long table, a dozen chairs, a large flat screen TV with Director Fury's face staring at him, and two women standing there staring at him too. When his eyes fell on the older of the two girls the world stopped.

She was as tall and strong-willed as he remembered. Her broad shoulders weren't rolled back confidently like he remembered. They sagged under the grief of losing her husband. When she saw him her chest puffed out, her glare was icy, and she tried to look as formidable as possible. It was effective. She was as intimidating as she was beautiful. But there was something off in her that Tony couldn't place. He remembered every line of her face, but something was inconsistent. It couldn't be age, he'd accounted for that and really age hadn't affected her much at all. What was it about her now that put him off so much?

It could be how her eyes were rimmed with red and puffy. How tear-stains coated her cheeks. It slapped him in the face then that he had never seen this woman cry. Never. Not once. But here she was with the evidence literally written on her face. It was bizarre and off-putting for him, to say the least.

"Mr. Stark, glad you could finally join us," Director Fury said. "Unfortunately, this meeting is over. I'll let Catherine fill you in on what you missed. Goodbye, ladies," he said to Cat and Amy. Neither responded, Amy too depressed to speak and Catherine too furious at Tony for existing. Fury cut their connection and the TV's screen became a signal-less blue

"Amy," Catherine called to her. Amy retained focus long enough to hear her mother's words. "Please go to our room. Unpack." Amy glanced from her mother to Tony, unmoving, too anxious to leave. "Go," Catherine asserted. With one last look at her mother Amy left the room. Tony was left alone with Catherine in the quiet.

Cat blinked, raised her chin higher, and crossed her arms. "I didn't know you were coming. I didn't even know you'd found me."

"Sorry I didn't call ahead," Tony said lightly, eyes never leaving Catherine's face.

Her lips curled back in disgust. "Don't."

Under her glare Tony felt very small. He stared at the floor like a scolded child.

"Joanna-" he tried to say.

"No," Catherine cut him off, furious. "Don't you dare call me that. We aren't twenty anymore and we aren't together!" Catherine's eyes glowed with anger. "I'm not that woman anymore," she insisted. Tony looked up at her with frustration.

"You look the same to me," he argued. Catherine barked a cynical laugh.

"You definitely haven't changed," she countered. Tony finally glared back at her

"What the hell, Joanna?"

"What? What do you want?!"

Their voices became louder by the word.

"I wanna know what happened to us!"

"What happened to us? You were an alcoholic, Tony!"

"I'd just lost my-"

"I did too!" Catherine screamed. "I did too but you didn't care!"

"I always cared!"

"No, you didn't, because everything was always about you! Because you're a narcissist!" Her words were sharp like a snake's fangs dripping venom.

Tony looked away from Catherine, glaring at the table.

"And you've never done anything selfish," he said, quietly now.

"No, I haven't," she matched his level now.

"Then why'd you leave?" He asked like he already knew. Catherine's anger melted slightly. At least she wasn't glaring so terribly anymore. Now something glinted in her eye that was a lot like fear.

"Why are you here?" She asked, on the verge of enlightenment. Really, she already knew, but she wanted to deny it. She wanted to deny that he knew her biggest secret.

"I read something interesting on Amy's file when Back in Black gave it to me," Tony said. Catherine nodded bitterly.

"Fury..." She shook her head and bit her lip. _Curse that man._

"You left how long ago, Joanna?"

Catherine was quiet for a long time.

"Sixteen years," she said quietly.

"Sixteen years and – if my math is correct, which it is – seven months," Tony finished. Catherine nodded, biting her lip and not meeting his eyes. Tony said nothing more. "So, you would have been two months along when..."

Catherine took one willowy breath and blinked the wetness from her eyes. "I didn't want her to be raised around our drama. We were on the verge of a breakup anyways, whether I got pregnant or not. I just wanted to protect her," Catherine reasoned.

"Does she know?"

"No, she thinks Ben-" Cat choked on his name. "-is her real dad."

Tony nodded.

"I'm sorry," Catherine offered.

"I could have been there for her. I could have been a good dad," Tony talked more to himself than to Catherine.

"Tony," Catherine caught his focus. She fixed an icy glare on him. "If you tell her then I will put everything my mother taught me to good use."

"I know," Tony said quietly. "I'm going to go find a way to get this suit off."

"The tech lab on the West side should help."

Tony nodded and, with that information, left Catherine in the meeting room alone.

Cat collapsed into a nearby chair, eyes brimming with tears. She sucked her breath in through her teeth and tried her best not to cry. Her shoulders shook and her fists were clenched, but this time she had nobody next to her. She didn't have Ben here to lay his palm over her knuckles and ease her. A sob broke from her. A tear dripped onto her hand. She left it there. And she left the next one, and the next, and the next after that. Ben always told her there was nothing wrong with crying, that it didn't make her weak. She'd argue that her mother never cried, that her sisters never cried, her grandma never cried. Logically, that meant she couldn't. Ben would shake his head and smile, amused by her stubbornness. This time though, Cat fell into her arms and wailed.

* * *

Amy focused on the computer screen in front of her, tuning out the rest of the world. She typed everything she knew on Hellqvist as fast as she could and when that well of intel ran dry she uploaded a SHIELD file to fill in any gaps. Her eyes never left her work. Not even when the automatic glass doors opened with a whoosh and the sound of metal thunked on the workbench next to her's.

Tony sat with one leg swinging off the edge of the table. He opened a drawer below him and sifted through the tools. None were suitable. He leaned back with a disgruntled sigh. His eyes scoped the room, finding nothing that would help him. Until his eyes landed on Amy.

"Hey, you," he called to her. Amy didn't look up. "I need some help here," he continued. After a long pause, Amy dropped what she was doing and lumbered over with a scowl. A blank, distracted glaze cast over her eyes underneath knit-together eyebrows. "You can manipulate electricity, right?"

Amy nodded slowly.

"Good. I need you to power down pieces of my suit one by one. Then- can your force fields take any sort of shape?"

Again Amy nodded.

"Perfect. Put your shields in the shape of..." he threw out his hand to the holoprojection table and a blue image of his helping robots popped up. "These. Then have them disassemble me. You got all that?"

Amy shook her head.

"Just...try your best."

Amy nodded and set to work.

An hour later, Tony sprung up from the workbench now littered with pieces of his suit. He looked at it with interest, thinking of how to piece them together in a way that'd make the suit more portable. He pulled up a stool, found the best tools he could, and set to work.

Amy didn't have much to do, the only thing left being to develop an algorithm to predict likely places Hellqvist could be hiding that Vicki would run. It wasn't much, but it could be the key to geting him. Damn, she'd get him. She'd make the best damn algorithm and she'd _get him. _Because he needed to pay. For all the lives he'd taken just today alone. For those civilians. Those children and those parents and those innocent passerby. And for her father. She'd find Hellqvist. Oh, she'd find him, turn him over to SHIELD, and then they could do whatever they wanted with him. Amy knew exactly just what SHIELD would want to do with him. Terrible things. She supposed that in her broken heart she wanted to do some terrible things to him too. She ruffled her hair and pulled it into a sloppy bun. _Time to work._

* * *

**Fun trivia time! Catherina Mercad, Amy's mother, was originally born as Joanna Nivena. In the original comics Joanna was Tony Stark's fiancee. She eventually broke off their engagement due to Tony's drinking and his then-secret identity as Iron Man taking a toll on their relationship. In this universe, Joanna and Tony were lovebirds in their early twenties, but then Tony's parents died (and Joanna's did too, in a spy-related incident) and he began drinking. Joanna left him for it, was two months along, changed her name, and moved far away where no one would find her. There she met Ben, had Amy, got engaged, got married, and raised her daughter. And now this bullshit is happening. Poor Cat can't seem to catch a break.**

**So, there's that! If you enjoyed this chapter leave a review, favorite, or follow.**


	12. Chapter 12 - Lucid

**I'm back again! I want to give a special thanks to my reviewer of Chapter 11: debatable-cerealkiller. Thank you so much. Your continued support means a lot to me. And our new followers (I may not get all of you since the dates are a bit far back): ****Kuroppoi Kitsune; TheAmazingMaya; Onedoesnotsimplyreadfanfiction; TotalGeek17; a1m0stxfam0us; marielinot07; and orlha. If I missed any of you I am very sorry. Our new favoriters are: TheAmazingMaya; a1m0stxfam0us; and sweetcherry99. Thank you all so much! I'm sorry for the long wait and I look forward to putting more of this story out there.**

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Lucid**

* * *

There are many things Amy dislikes. She dislikes the cold, the color purple when laced with blue, she dislikes her single beauty mark just under the corner of her left eye, she dislikes her voice. The thing this week has proven she hates the most? Math. Math and its algorithms. Math and how she cannot fathom this damn code. Math and how its the only thing that'll help her find Hellqvist. SHIELD could track him as much as they want, she knows he won't be found unless he wants to be. No, what they need is an algorithm. Something to predict what his next move is before he makes it, so they can be proactive. She hopes that maybe they'll find him this way.

Finding Hellqvist is beyond a simple want. It is her lifeblood. Her father's killer and the killer of many more is walking free and _gloating _over her. She doesn't know how but she can sense it. It infuriates her and fuels her in her search. It keeps her going, through the sleepless nights and fruitless days. Amy swears on the food she's too busy to eat that and the sleep she cannot find that Hellqvist's cocky smirk tickles on the back of her neck-hair. He's always behind her, just out of her line of sight, breathing husky in her ear and whispering of what he'd do to her. His voice haunts her head. Every time she whips around he's gone, but she'll catch him one of these days. Oh, she _will_ catch him.

Amy's mother walks into the lab, disrupting Amy's thoughts. Amy's face twists and she crumples up the paper she'd been staring at, tossing it into the trash pile with all the other failed algorithms. Algorithms themselves aren't difficult, but creating one to predict the movements of an erratic human is. Her mother sets a plate of food next to Amy. Amy ignores it. She picks up a sheet of paper instead, Hellqvist's excruciatingly incomplete file before her and she gets back to work.

"You haven't eaten in three days, Amy," Catherine starts on her. Amy whines, not wanting another lecture. Across the lab, Tony smartly stays out of it. Amy scribbles on her page, unable to focus. A deep inhale and the twist in her face reveal her irritation. The lines she draws are deep and harsh. She pushes through the page multiple times as she doodles. She doesn't get it. How can her mother not see? This isn't about food or sleep, it's about Hellqvist. It's always about Hellqvist now. There is nothing except finding him.

_And then what?_ She hadn't thought of that part. Amy knew what she wanted to do, but it broke SHIELD's orders of taking him alive. It broke her own morals and her own promise to the media to not initiate some sort of war between her and him. But things change. Reality gets in the way and clouds her vision. She can no longer deny that her father is dead. So she wouldn't deny herself the pleasure of hurting Hellqvist. The thought of what SHIELD would say if they knew she was this emotionally compromised stung in the front of her mind. Amy pushed it back. _Fuck what SHIELD wants._ Amy decides. _He's my creation,_ she knows it. He wouldn't be how he was if he hadn't of felt betrayed by her. _He's mine to end._ To end. _Oh God. Could I do it?_

The snap of fingers brought her back from her thoughts. Her mother was still talking.

"Sorry, Mom, I zoned out," Amy said, quiet like a candle burning down the wick.

"I was telling you how important it is to take care of yourself. Your body needs fuel. Without it you'll die," Catherine lectured.

"Maybe I wanna die," Amy mumbled.

"What was that?" Cat snapped, eyes wide and face screwed up tight. Amy shook her head.

"Nothing, Mom," she said, whiny and annoyed. "Can you leave me alone now?"

"I'm trying to help you."

"Maybe I don't want your help!" Amy snapped. The candle in her bloomed, spitting with fire and rage. "Maybe I don't want your help!" Amy repeated. "Maybe I wanna find my dad's killer before he finds us! Maybe I just wanna be left the Hell alone!"

Amy's words cut deep and settled in Catherine's chest, making her heart ache. Silence reverberated in the room like the musky smoke of an extinguished forest fire. Tony looked up from his workbench, glancing between the two women with an analytical stare.

Catherine hung her head, swallowed her hurt feelings with a gulp, and looked back up.

"I just want-"

"I just want you to _back off_."

"-you to be okay," Catherine finished forcefully.

"I haven't been okay since that damn meteor crashed in our backyard. And neither of us have been safe since then either. I won't make the same mistake twice. I will not sit and watch as another person that I love is gunned down in front of me _again_. I can't."

Catherine nodded once and turned her back to leave, the plate of food left behind her. Amy watched her go, eyebrows knit together. When Catherine's bold frame disappeared behind a metal door Amy got back to work.

"You know, you shouldn't speak to your mother like that," Tony spoke up.

"_Oh_, are you going to lecture me now too?" Amy asked bitterly. "You aren't my dad."

The words stung for reasons Amy could never know. Tony hid it well.

"You're right, I'm not. Not really. All I know is if I'd talked to my mom like that... Shit, my dad would've-"

"I don't care what your dad would've," Amy turned her back to him and stared at the monitor screen ahead. Tony shook his head and went back to his workbench.

"You should still be nicer to her. She's only trying to help."

"My dad tried to help. Now he's-" she couldn't complete the sentence. "_Y'know._"

"Yeah, I know," Tony let her have this one.

Amy's brown eyes fell to her paper, the sight of it muting her. She gawked at what she'd done. Her absent mind hadn't noticed what she'd been drawing. Amy used to like to draw, though now it was tainted. Every scene she began ended the same way: with her father's dead body lying bloody on a sandy beach shore. She stared at what her hands had done this time. It was him. Dark shading of blood pooled out of his exploded head with his brain and bone spilling out. Amy lurched forward and gagged. Her hand slapped across her mouth to keep from vomiting while her whole body shivered. Wetness swelled in her eyes as she looked at the mangled brain matter.

Her sharp nails snatched the page and curled it into a ball. It was thrown with the rest of her garbage.

"I'm going for a walk," she announced. Tony nodded without comment.

* * *

The hallway was cast in shadow, faceless men moving among her in busy blurs. Amy stalked down the hallway, face deformed in the darkness of her mind. Harshness was a shell around her eyes and her once lovely cheekbones were sharp like the cut she would give. Above her hollow cheeks were the purple bags of sleepless nights and endless work. Her hands hung long, thin, and gangling. Skin was stretched tight to the bone. Bone was brittle and cold. Eyes were something inhuman. Something was lurking behind them.

Empty shells of people parted for her like the Red Sea. They seemed to know the sweet child they'd watched grow up had died with her father. Hell, she'd died on the scene of her very first assassination. Every hair on her bristled at the memory. She could hear them coming behind her. Hellqvist's parents, that is. They were coming. _Shit!_ She couldn't breath. Everything was aching. Her lungs burned and her legs were itching. Amy bolted off, the screams of children hot on her trail. _They're here. They're here. They know what I did!_ Her mind screamed, but she couldn't find her voice. The hallway grew longer the more she ran. Her breath grew shorter. Her eyes wider. Her fear more pungent, coming off in strong perfumes the whole hall could smell. They stared at her, empty eyes and fangs in their mouths. They wanted her throat.

A door opened just ahead of her, its bright light shining into the deep pit of the haunting hall. Amy wasted no time, diving through the door and into the blinding rays willingly.

She blinked at the sunlight stinging in her eyes. A hand came to shield her face as she stared at the garden she'd landed herself in. It was lovely. The roses bloomed bountifully, the fountains were intricately carved, the stone path her bare feet pressed against was cool in the hot sun.

The door creaked behind her and Amy turned around. She caught a glimpse of Mrs. Hellqvist, blood dripping from her chin and all, pulling the metal door closed with a solid thunk. Amy's stomach churned with the sound of the lock.

But she was safe here, in this peaceful garden. Surely there had to be guards protecting her. Amy turned back around. Two crows fell from the sky, ripping into one another's flesh. They crashed in the fountain, turning the clear running water red with blood.

_Remind you of anyone?_ Shivers ran through her spine. Amy whipped around with a gasp. The thrumming in her heart and knot in her chest returned. Her wet eyes scanned every corner. _You won't find me there, Amy dearest. You won't find me anywhere._ Amy faced forward once more. The crows bones laid in the bloody water, ripped completely of flesh and feather. Amy's hand slapped over her mouth to suppress a scream. _Yes, I did that._ Hellqvist's voice told her. _I don't care much for metaphors. I like to get straight to the point._

The tickling in her hairs flung her back around.

There his shadowy figure was not an inch from her nose. Amy belted a scream.

Her fist instinctively flew out, shattering his being into a million tiny pieces. But he recollected. His being formed once more, complete with the blood dripping from his ghostly fingertips and the poisonous smile. Amy whimpered and took a step back. Hellqvist shook his head.

_No-no. That's not how things work around here._ And suddenly she was an inch from his face again. She couldn't move, no matter how hard she pulled. _See, you can't break free of me, Amy. Because there's no where you can run from in your own mind._ Fear and pain prickled in her chest, Hellqvist poking at her in accusation. _I'm in your head, Amy. _She flinched. _I'm. In. Your. Head._

The weight of a holster and its pistol fell on her hips. Amy snapped back to her own free will, drawing her weapon up to fire, aiming right for his gut. Suddenly he was ten paces away, hands up in defense.

_What are you willing to __**do**__? What are you willing to __**sacrifice**__?_

She pulled the trigger.

Hellqvist was gone. Her mother's body caught the bullet.

"No!" Amy screamed, rushing forward. Time moved so slow, rubbing in what she'd done. Amy watched her mother fall and she just wasn't fast enough to catch her. Her mom collapsed to the ground, limbs and head flopping as they crashed into the grass. Time resumed, and Amy skidded down to kneel next to her limp mother.

"Mom! Mom! Mommy!" Amy shook her. "Mom!" She pulled the woman into her arms. "Mom," she sobbed. "Please, please don't leave me!" Amy cried as she rocked back and forth. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

* * *

"Wake up! Amy, wake up!" Tony shouted, shaking her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed under her breath. "I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry."

"Amy!" He shouted.

Amy eyes snapped wide and her instincts kicked in, throwing Tony off of her with a violent swing of her fist. He flew back and four armed guards tried to restrain her as Amy writhed.

"Mom! Mom!" She screamed.

"I'm right here, baby," Catherine came to Amy's side, dismissing the guards and taking her daughter into her arms. Amy wept onto her shoulder, holding her mother tightly. Catherine pat down her hair and hummed a soothing song into her ear. "It's okay, baby. I got you."

"I'm so sorry," Amy sobbed.

"It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay now," Catherine said softly.

"What happened?" Amy was distressed and confused.

"You stood up from your chair in the lab and passed out, sweetie," Catherine told her, swaying back and forth with Amy in her arms. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Four days ago," Amy answered and starting sobbing all over again. "I'm so sorry!"

"Sh, it's okay. I got you now. You're gonna be okay."

"Promise?"

"_Promise_."

* * *

**I didn't revise this at all. I hope it wasn't terrible or over dramatic or cheesy. Leave me a review or favorite/follow if you enjoyed. :)**


	13. Chapter 13 - News Station Cliche

**Welcome back to another chapter of The Mirage! I'm happy to be here. Are you? I hope so. It'd be awkward if you weren't.**** S/O to the new follower CallMeEevee. And we have no reviewers to give a S/O too. If you want a S/O be sure to review, favorite, or follow.**

* * *

**Chapter 13 - Thank God The News Station Just So Happened To Be Playing So They Could Say Exactly What Our Protagonist Needed To Hear!**

* * *

Amy's hair sat in a towel as she sat on Tony's stool. She had awoken from a two-day sleep mere hours ago. After a mandatory eat and shower she was back and ready to work. Tony dragged her from her workbench though, saying she needed her mind to process something else. _Just for a short time_, he'd promised at her glare. _A change of pace. It'll help you focus later._ Amy had relented. That was how she ended up how she was now, peering over his workbench at the cluttered pieces of Iron Man armor. A notebook rested in one hand and Tony chattered in her ear, asking for her solution to a portable suit and also distracting her from coming up with ideas for said suit.

Amy hunched back over Tony's workbench. She found her presence here pointless. While Tony had said he wanted another creative mind taking a look, it seemed more like he just wanted to annoy her. He wouldn't even let her touch the suit. _That's my baby_, he'd told her as she sat down. _You're a baby_, she'd retorted.

"Don't touch that!" Amy pointed a finger his way as Tony drifted to one of Vicki's control panels. For the first time in a week and a half her tone was light and joking.

"Oh, come on!" Tony griped with a playful smile.

"Don't mess with Vicki's system," Amy warned.

"I just want to see how advanced SHIELD's AI is."

"SHIELD didn't make Vicki. I did. She's mine," Amy said.

Tony blinked in confusion. He'd never seen Amy show an interest in robotics or anything like that. She'd started complaining since she sat down at his workbench about working on the Iron Man armor. Somebody who was so adamant about tech design had created an AI like Vicki? He thrust his bag of potato chips towards her. Food was always a safe bet when you didn't have a clue what to say. Amy gave a wary glare, still adamant about her dietary needs. But she took a chip from the bag. She had to admit, she missed the salty savoryness of Lays crunching in her mouth. She wiped her mouth as she looked back to the workbench.

"When did you make her?" He asked her.

"When I was about fifteen. I went through a phase."

Her, "phases," involved teaching herself advanced robotics and AI mechanics? The girl became more like him every time he spoke to her.

"How is it that you can create a dumb AI but you can't crack whatever that is over there?" Tony asked, pointing to Amy's scrapped papers littering her workbench. Amy glanced at them briefly before her eyes snapped to Tony.

"Better resources, more time, no stress, and- oh, yeah! My dad hadn't been murdered."

Tony balked. Amy shot up from the table. She stomped across the lab, through the glass partition, to her own workbench. Amy slammed down on her chair and pulled tight to the table. She whipped out scratches of paper and pencils and pens.

"Amy, I-"

"Leave me alone," she ordered, rough with emotion. She sniffled, shifted in her chair, and blocked Tony out as best she could.

Tony turned over to his desk where Amy's open notebook laid. Its pages were empty of any notes, showing nothing regarding her thoughts on the Iron Man suit. Tony sighed. He'd hoped to see her reveal what a brilliant genius she was underneath the starry-eyed front she put up. Apparently she just wasn't in the mood for anything but snapping at people. He figures he should have expected that, considering what she was going through. Tony shrugged and pulled up a holoprojection suit with the flick of his wrist.

* * *

Tony had left the lab thirty minutes ago. _Coffee break_, he'd told Amy when she asked. It was partially true, but really he just needed to get away from Amy. There were days when he wanted nothing more than to stand by her side and help her sort through her problems. He'd chat to the quiet air as Amy ignored him and go on with funny stories regaling all the most exciting parts of his life. When Amy would pipe up to ask a question he would be ecstatic. Hell, he was ecstatic even when she told him to shut up, simply because she had talked at all. There were days he'd ignore his work and hop over to her side of the lab. He'd inquire about what she was up to and she'd give vaguely annoyed grunts that told him to fuck off.

There were also days when looking at her put a weight in his chest heavier than the painful arc reactor. She was so close yet so far, never allowed to know the truth about her own parentage. Especially not now, now that the man she thinks was her father is dead. Tony would look at her and see how sometimes her shoulders would shake and her body would shiver as she cried silently over her workbench. There was also all that emotion. Sadness, rage, and sometimes a little laughter here and there. It made her too real. He would waste time imagining a life taking care of her, a world where she knew her own origins, and then reality would come back. Catherine would walk in with a plate of food and urge her to eat, "For her father." But what she always meant was, "For Ben." Tony had never even gotten the chance. The fact weighed on his mind too much sometimes. It made him too angry and disappointed and he had to run from those feelings.

Now he sat in the lounge with a mug of fresh coffee warming his palms and a soft cotton blanket draped over his shoulders. He took a sip of coffee like it was a salve and he had aching bones to sooth.

"You _know_ you shouldn't be drinking coffee this late," Catherine said as she walked in. Her pajamas were ruffled and her hair sat in a messy bun.

"This argument is sixteen years old, Jo," Tony griped as she sat down. "Hey..." He said with a theatrically thoughtful look on his face. "Jo," he pointed to Catherine, "and Cup o' Joe." He pointed to his mug of coffee. "I'm onto something here."

"That _joke_ is sixteen years old," Catherine giggled.

"Yeah well, it still makes you laugh doesn't it?" Tony smiled. Catherine shook her head in disapproval, the bright grin ruining the affect. Their conversation died down. The static noise of the room became their audio. The hissing of the coffee machine, the clicks and whir of the AC turning on, the muffled chattering of off-duty security officers in the kitchen. Tony takes a breath. "So, how are you doing?"

Catherine sighed. "I'm coping," she said, raking her fingers through her hair and redoing her bun. She pulls it in tighter this time.

"Do I need to lock up the liquor cabinet for you?" Tony's tone is joking, but there's a dark tilt to his humor that says he's seriously wondering.

"Nah, I'd just pick it. But I appreciate the thought," Catherine declines. Tony nods. "I'm more worried about Amy, honestly. She's the one with the predisposition for the stuff."

"That's probably my side. Sorry about that."

"What? You think my family of spies and mercs never had drinking problems?" Catherine asks. Tony chuckles.

"You just have to one-up me don't you? _My family of mercs and spies_," he mocks her. Catherine laughs and the conversation dwindles once more. Talking about her family tree only brings up sour memories that Cat doesn't want to get into. Tony waits for her to say something. After a long wait he decides a subject change is best. "Have you seen what Amy draws?" He asks, voice somber. Catherine nods.

"She used to draw flowers or cities. Now she just draws him dying again and again," Catherine whispers. "I try to help, but she keeps pushing me away."

"Just take the communication slow. Recovery takes time. You could also get an AI to spy on her."

"Is that what you've been doing? Pretending you're _The Cool One_ that'll let her do what she wants, while actually keeping a secret babysitter on watch?"

"Yep. It's working. I know what she needs when she needs it. And, most importantly, my excellent timing is making her like me even more than you," Tony says with a contemptuous sip of his coffee.

"Oh, as if!" Catherine laughs. Tony smiles at the sound of her squeaky giggles. "Y'know, I really missed this," Catherine says suddenly. "All the jokes and stuff. I mean, obviously we could never go back to what we were. Too many issues there. But the friendship was nice."

"Yeah, it kinda was."

"Wanna bury the hatchet?" Catherine asks. She throws her hand out for a handshake. Her hand is out there in the open and she's taking a risk here. The fear of rejection creases her forehead and she smiles nervously.

"Sure," Tony says and relief floods Catherine. Tony leans forward and gives her hand a shake. When he lets go, Cat lets her hand drop and falls back into the couch. A gentle smile rests on her face. Tony takes another sip of his coffee.

* * *

Amy sat alone, nothing but the television running news reports to keep her company. Even that was muted. Amy rolled her shoulders, pinching the spot just between her shoulder blades where her knots collected. She let out low groan. _Back a couple of hours and already it's too much again,_ Amy berated herself. She stole a glance up at the news and saw they were replaying footage of what happened at the mall. She watched the scene play out and for the first time saw what the civilian world saw. Her electric blasts blew into bodies, burning the flesh and crumpling them into seizures. Then the dark-haired woman appeared and Amy was knocked to the floor. She remembered how it felt to toss the woman into the column and snap her spine. Sickness swelled in her stomach just thinking about it. Amy imagined what the rest of the world would think of her. This girl with unheard of power, and there being others like her - like Penelope. People would see how Amy fought and they'd assume the worst. _God, they'll think I'm a monster!_ She picked up the remote and was going to turn off the television when Lilith Kaur appeared.

Amy remember Lilith from the scene that day. The Indian woman had been the least annoying reporter, in Amy's opinion, and Amy liked her sass. She turned up the volume to hear what Lilith had to say.

"We've just shown once more the chaotic scene that unfolded two weeks ago," Lilith reported from the newsroom as an anchor. _She got a promotion,_ Amy smiled for her. "Fear still grips the nation from this man named Tomas Hellqvist. From what we can tell, he seems to be a Swedish man with an unknown age. The range is from early twenties to early thirties. Locals have raised over 20,000 pounds to rebuild the local shopping and support the victims and their families of his attack. But you know who hasn't done anything to help repair the damage? Amy Mercad, and her mutant friend. Mercad was the intended target of the terrorist attack, the reason for this whole thing happening, yet where is she? What has she done? Nothing."

Amy winced at the words. She took a sharp inhale and exhaled slowly. She looked down at her workbench littered with papers. Most of them were scraps of drawings she'd made when she couldn't focus. The other few had the beginnings of formulas she couldn't finish. _No progress since the day I got here. I really am doing nothing._

"In fact, we haven't even seen her face since her refusal to engage him. Nick, what do you make of that?" Lilith asked, turning to her co-anchor.

"Thank you, Lilith. I think it's despicable. Here we have people hospitalized, suffering permanent damage, and the loss of life is just unforgivable. Where is Amy Mercad? Apparently, this girl can shoot fire or something and cast shields. If she has all that power, why isn't she doing anything to help protect our people? By doing nothing she puts us in more danger," Nick ranted. Fire swirled in Amy's chest. She shook her head and planted herself against her workbench. A violent kick threw her chair from beneath her and Amy stood. They were right. They were too right. Amy's nails scraped the metal desk. Nothing accomplished, nothing done. Hellqvist could be out there right now making the world burn and she can't do anything about it. Her clenched fists slammed the table in frustration.

"Well said, Nick," Lilith's voice spoke. Amy looked up to the television, quietly begging them not to wound her more. "Here we have some images of what life is like right now for the survivors of the attack," Lilith said.

Amy's eyes swelled at the sight. Civilians she was meant to protect laid in hospital beds with needles stringing them to machines. People laid stitched up in a manor of gruesome places. A child sat alone on his bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, mind clearly still racing images of that day.

Amy threw everything off her desk with a scream. She whipped around, hurling a forcefield disk at the wall. Another flew into the glass partition separating two sides of the lab. Glass sprayed the floor, forming a great sea of harsh edges. A third disk cut deep into the flesh of the thick metal door. Her fourth furiously whirled into an empty workbench.

Amy stood in the shattered lab huffing and angry. She braced herself against her bench once more, taking a shaky breath. It didn't do much to calm her. Her body trembled with a mixture of rage and heartbreak. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying she wouldn't cry.

"Where is she now? What is Mercad doing?" Lilith's voice pressed. Amy cringed. "Is she in hiding? Is she really that afraid of Hellqvist? Is Mercad really going to abandon millions of people who could be subject to Hellqvist's terror because she's scared?" Amy took a deep breath and held it. "When I was first reporting this story I said that it seemed like we had a hero here in England. I want to recant that. There's no way _in Hell_ anybody that cowardly can be a hero."

Amy threw an electric blast into the TV, finally quieting the newswoman. Amy's back slid down the leg of her workbench until she was sitting in the floor. Glass shards and torn up hunks of metal cut off from her disks laid around her. Her lip quivered and her eyes swelled with tears.

"No," she told herself. She would not cry. Amy Mercad would not weep. Amy sniffed and pushed herself back up, still shaking. She couldn't let them be right. She had to do something. After all that happened that day, Amy needed to give back.

She pulled her stool back underneath her and pulled up to her workbench. Taking a pencil and some paper, Amy began to work. Truly, this time, and not hindered by fear. No more playing dumb, no more excuses, no more wasted time.

* * *

"What the hell," Tony murmured as he stepped into the lab. Glass sprayed everywhere and he fingered the cuts in the wall as he walked along to Amy's side of the room. She wasn't at her workbench, instead at a control panel for Vicki's system.

"I was watching the news," Amy said before he could ask. "They seemed to have a lot of opinions on me."

"Amy, you can't pay attention to them. They're just a bunch of assholes," Tony said, taking a few steps forward with the glass crunching beneath his feet.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Amy said, closing the panel with a finishing tap. "I just created our solution."

The holoprojection table came to life with a map of the world, stats and facts about Hellqvist hanging on the left next to it. Vicki made quick work. Four red dots landed on the enemy's likely location with a ping, each stating their probability for the viewer. The facts chart updated with three most likely next steps of his. Vicki began to read aloud everything she had updated with as Tony stared at the finished project with admiration.

"You probably just created the first mathematical formula that could accurately predict a psycho's next move," he said.

"I had been thinking too linear when I was first developing it. I was thinking that Hellqvist would think like you and me. But he doesn't. He's too-"

"Crazy."

"I was going to say, 'compromised by his delusions' but, sure. Crazy. The new formula accounts for that and doesn't pick the next logical move he could make, but rather the most emotional," Amy explained. Tony nodded along.

"I'm impressed. This must've been a complicated thing to figure out."

"Not really. I was keeping myself from solving it because I was too scared to face Tomas. I was terrified of what he'd do to me. Then I realized it's him who should be terrified of finding me," Amy said, picking at her cuticles as her mind wandered. "Vicki predicts he is trying to find me, that that was always his goal. I think he wants to show me something. Probably the pain that he went through."

"Do you feel bad for him?" Tony asked.

"No," Amy said coldly.

"Good. You shouldn't."

Amy nodded. "I'm going to go tell Director Fury that I got this up and running. His agents don't have to waste time, chase cold leads, or get tricked into a trap anymore."

"Good luck," Tony said as she walked out. Amy nodded again without a word, marching out of the broken lab, leaving a cold impression behind her.

* * *

"Thank you, Agent Mercad. With this we can track down Hellqvist a lot faster," Director Fury said. In the background of the video call Amy could see his own holoprojection table light up with Vicki's calculations.

"You're welcome, sir," Amy said cordially. She looked down at the floor awkwardly and scuffed her sneakers against the floor. "There's one more thing, if I may ask."

"Go ahead, Agent," Fury said, cautiously curious about what Amy wanted. Amy lifted her head up.

"Thank you, Sir. I would like to request that when Hellqvist is found he's left to me."

Director Fury quirked an eyebrow in surprise. Amy remained how she was: shoulders tight, back erect, staring unseeingly into the monitor.

"You want a solo op? Mercad, you've never performed well in those."

"You don't understand!" Amy broke. "I-"

"I can understand personal vendettas, Mercad, but I think you've done enough."

"Sir, Hellqvist is my responsibility," Amy came to life with emotion, voice trembling, eyes wide and serious, finger pointing at her boss. "I'm the one he's after. He doesn't want SHIELD or anything like that. He just wants me and my family. Please, let me handle this on my own."

"I thought you wanted to turn him in to the proper authorities?"

"That was before I knew he killed my dad."

"Mercad, I recognize that you are very distraught over what happened but we cannot allow personal matters to interfere with a mission."

"This is more than a mission! And honestly, Director, I don't think SHIELD should be involved at all. This is between him and me. I caused Hellqvist to become what he did, and clearly he's looking for a one-on-one, toe-to-toe type of battle. Why shouldn't I give it to him?"

Fury sighed like he was disappointed in her. "You've been compromised, Agent. I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you off this assignment."

"That's bullshit!" Amy shouted.

Fury's stare quieted her. She fell back into parade rest, staring down at the floor once more and humiliated.

"Thank you for your hard work, Agent Mercad. It will be greatly appreciated and recognized as we continue our search for Hellqvist."

Amy blinked back the angry tears rimming her eyes.

"And, Amy," Nick called to get her attention.

She looked back up, face as stony as she could make it.

"This is for the best."

With that the conference is cut. Amy stands alone in the meeting room with only an empty monitor to stare at. She takes a sharp breath and blasts the centerpiece off the table with her exhale. She storms out of the meeting room, electricity sparking in her hair as she rages down the hall. She runs to her sanctuary, far on the opposite end of the facility from the labs and away from everyone else. This place that reminds her of happy memories training with Natasha and Clint. The soft mats under her bare feet and the blood on her knuckles as she goes hard at a punching bag is everything she's ever needed right now.

She inhales the scent of the dojo and the cool balance of a controlled fight seeps into her. It's easy here. Everything is easier here where she feels most strong. Amy walks in and pulls a bag from the wall. Every punch that connects with the bag connects her to Natasha and Clint. Deeper than that it connects her to her father and her mother. Her family. The people she has to protect. The reason why she's certain that now she _will_ kill Tomas Hellqvist, and complete the mission her instructors couldn't all those years ago.

* * *

**Okay well now this is going to get very fun. Expect a lot more angst and fuckery in the next chapters. Thank you so much for reading! If you leave a review I'll give you my hand in marriage.**


	14. Chapter 14 - A Boy and An Enemy

**Ayo! Welcome to another chapter. Have you guys been enjoying this story so far? I have, and having you guys with me gives me a lot more confidence in what I'm doing. I don't think I got any new favorites or follows, but my homie debatable-cerealkiller left me a review that made me feel so great! I'd really been slugging along but being told that my OC is becoming a real person meant the world to me. Thank you so much. :)**

* * *

**Chapter 14 - A Boy and An Enemy**

* * *

Chamber. Kick. Hear the pounding of meat vs sand bag. Re-chamber. Repeat.

Her kicks flew at the punching bag in a steady rhythm that offered little comfort. Chamber. Kick. The pounding of meat vs sand bag. Re-chamber. Repeat. Her foot was sweaty and sticking to the mat, her face dripped perspiration from the hairline, droplets collecting on her brow. Her lip curled back and she snarled as she kicked, stomach warm with the rage she felt. She threw a new kick out and the leg she stood on buckled. The pound of meat vs mat resounded in her ears as she collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Amy laid on her back, staring up at the ceiling in malice, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she took needy gulps of air.

"_Fuck!_" She cursed herself, rolling over and pushing herself up. To collapse was to fail, and she would not. Amy stood again, swaying slightly, and chambered her leg as she prepared to kick the punching bag once again.

"Don't break yourself."

The quiet voice bounced across the metallic walls until it reached Amy's eardrums in the back of the room. She didn't look away from her target. Chamber. Kick. Meat vs sand bag. Re-chamber. Repeat.

Catherine took a step into the dojo. It was unexpectedly vast for a safehouse and unsurprisingly grey and dreary. She kicked off her shoes by the door and took a few steps on the mat.

"Why are you here? I thought you'd be working with Vicki."

"You bow when you step on the mat," Amy huffed out her words in rapid succession before kicking again. Her eyes never left her target. Her mom walked forward.

"What are you doing?" She asked her daughter with a miserable tone and a shake of the head.

Amy paused and grabbed her water bottle from the floor, taking a long drench. She wiped her mouth, dropped the bottle, put her fists back up, and began kicking with her other leg.

"Fury's. Being. An. Ass." Each word spoken was in between her rapid fire abuse of the bag. "Came. To. Train."

"Yeah, well, Fury's always an ass if you ask me," Catherine said. Amy gave a tired grin, then snapped back into her hard expression with the next kick.

Catherine stood with arms crossed over her chest, analyzing the way Amy moved. Sweat rolled down her triceps, she huffed rather than breathed, a tremor would shake her when she threw all that she had at the bag. Every kick carried the weight of her world. All the anger and rage. Cat watched as Amy's bloodshot eyes glared and her hair hung deflated while it clung to her sweat. Her leg buckled again and her back hit the mat with a hard thump.

"Dammit," she raged and slapped the mat. "Dammit!"

Her mom took the last few steps separating them, knelt down, and rested a hand on Amy's trembling shoulder. She shook her mother off and hastily stood, nearly collapsing again if it weren't for Cat catching her by the elbows. Amy's eyes glossed over her surroundings, the room spinning helplessly and she couldn't track it.

"Focus."

Her eyes stared where they were level with Catherine, about at her nose. She swallowed the lump in her throat, swayed in a dangerous manner, and tried to push her mom off of her.

"Amy, you need to slow it down," Catherine reprimanded in the gentlest way she could. Amy's eyes snapped up to her's.

"_Slow it down_," she chewed up the words and spit them out like they were poisoned. "How can I _slow it down_ when Hellqvist is out there? When he's hunting for me and- and for you!" She shivered violently, whether with weariness or rage Catherine was unsure. "_How could you ask me to slow down when he's out to kill all that I have left!_" She screamed her words and shook with anger. Spots of wetness rimmed her eyes and the purple bags under them. "How dare you!" Amy's words stuck in her throat when she spoke them. They choked her more with each time she opened her mouth. Her eyes dripped as she stared at the floor, watching each droplet splatter against the mat with blurry vision. "After all he's taken from me..."

She didn't have the time to push her away, Cat had already pulled her into a bear hug. One arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other patted her coarse hair. Amy, finally, let herself be consumed; by her sadness, by her rage, by the hug. She wept hopelessly on Cat's shoulder and screamed in agony in between breaths. Amy let herself fall apart in the most ugly way. She breathed in with hiccups and exhaled in howls and sobbed at every free space. Her sorrow consumed her and she was never not shaking with it. She pressed her face harder into Mom's shoulder and wailed again. Wetness was seeping through Catherine's shirt but she paid it no mind. She smoothed her darling girl's hair over the crown of her head and held her tighter. It spurred a whole new string of choking sobs from Amy. Old memories flooded like her tears. Memories of her father holding her this way, of his sweet, thick voice singing soothing words, of how warm he was when he held her. Amy's knees gave up and she was only standing because Cathering held her.

Amy exhaled with a low whine and pulled back. Her feet held her steady, shockingly. Her face was pitiful. Her eyes were even more swollen than they had been, the purple bags under them shimmering with wetness, her cheeks clotted with tears, her nose clear of all fluids because they had run down over her lips.

"Let's get you to bed," her mother offered. Amy shook her head. Catherine tilted her head to the side with an exasperated expression. "Come on, Amy, you need to sleep." Amy shook her head at her mother again.

"I need," she began, shivering and empty, "to train."

Catherine wilted with sorrow over Amy's obsession.

"You don't understand," Amy said as she shook her head again. Sucking in air through her teeth, she began, "I need to end this. I have to end this. _I can't take anymore._ I've got to make Hellqvist pay." Her eyes raised to meet her mother's.

"I want him to pay too," Catherine assured her daughter. "I want him to burn _so much_. And he will. But we can't do anything when we're like this."

"We?" Amy blinked in confusion.

"Amy, I'm a Nivena woman. You are too. We're strong, powerful, and some say we're destined for war. One thing I know is that chaos is going to follow us where ever we go." Catherine sniffled. "I tried my best to live a normal life but I just couldn't, and now you can't either. Me trying to ignore my history got us into this. It got the man I loved most in this world killed and my daughter forever changed," Catherine said, swiping a tear from her eye. "So, yes, it's a 'we' thing, sweetheart."

"Are you even trained, Mom?" Amy asked, disbelieving her mother could be anything like she said she was. Catherine smirked.

Her foot connected with the punching bag in a swift kick. The chain snapped and the bag flew, a rip in its flesh spilling its sandy guts over the mats. Catherine looked back to her daughter who looked at the bag in reverence.

"That's... awesome," she breathed. Catherine nodded with a smile. Amy looked back at her then with sad eyes. "But I can't take you with me, Mom. I'm not going to risk you dying too. Besides, this is something I have to do alone," Amy reasoned.

"I can't let you go alone," her mother argued.

"You have to."

"No."

"But, Mom!"

"I said no!"

"Fine! Then SHIELD can kill Hellqvist!" Amy yelled. Her mother took a step back, her anger written across her face.

"I guess they can," she said, turning her back and walking away. She stopped in the archway of the door. "If you change your mind, I'll be there," she said softly, knocking shoulders with Tony as she stepped out. They locked eyes and she gave him a shake of the head, warning him to not even bother. Then she truly left.

Amy stared at the decimated bag on the dojo floor. Her vision spotted with the blue and yellow orbs a person gets from staring at the Sun for too long. Was it just her blinking or was her vision flickering? She felt faint. The bag shifted form each time the darkness in her eye faded. First its spilled guts and open body was Hellqvist. Then her mother. Then Cody. Her fists clenched. _Cody._

Amy ran over and swung her leg out at the bag, spraying more sand onto the mats.

"Amy," Tony called to her attention. She looked up at him and down at the bag again. It was just a bag once again and nothing more. She gawked at it, her hands trembling.

"I'm losing my mind," she whispered. Tony shook his head and rested a hand on her shoulder. _When had he gotten so close?_ Amy looked into his face, seeing and unseeing.

"No, you're letting him change you," Tony corrected. "He's controlling you, Amy, and it's exactly what he wanted. Hellqvist's goal is to control you."

"His goal is to kill my family. I won't let him. I'm going to kill him before he can hurt anyone else and I don't give a fuck how 'changed' I am," Amy fired back.

"Hellqvist wants you to suffer because he did. He wants you to become the same monster that he is. You can't let him do that to you, Amy. You're a beautiful, kind soul. You can't let him manipulate you like this."

"I've been manipulated my whole goddamn life! By SHIELD, trying to convince me to be their agent, by my mother trying to make me some kinda hero, by my dad trying to make me the perfect little lady; b-by Cody making me into his little bitch and then abandoning me! I know what manipulation looks like. It's this right now. It's you trying to convince me not to make my own decisions and using Hellqvist to do it."

"Amy, no."

"Fuck you. Fuck all of them! I will do what I damn-well want!"

Tony looked into her eyes and saw his own searing into him, burning and fuzzy with tears and furious.

"He killed my father," Amy's scorned voice urged. Tony sighed, arms dropping to his sides.

"This is something that you want?" He asked. Amy nodded. "It's what you came up with on your own?" Amy nodded again. "And you're sure of that?" Amy paused, took a breath with eyes searching within themselves, and finally nodded her head a final time. "Okay," Tony said.

Amy blinked back the wetness left in her eyes and a tiny smile eased onto her features. Tony gave her a broad grin back, smiling enough for both of them.

"You need to get cleaned up first."

Amy gave a begrudging sigh, but consented. Tony led the way out of the dojo, bowing to the empty mat with Amy as they left.

* * *

**Y'know the song, "I May Fall," from the RWBY soundtrack really applies to this story and Amy, I feel. Icon For Hire's, "Hope Of Morning," or, "Counting on Hearts," too. And Cher Lloyd's, "Superhero," for Amy and Cody was like the only thing I would listen to when I was writing the first draft of this when I was thirteen. Although back then Cody's name was Harry and he had a sister named Amelia, who in this version became the merc that Hellqvist hired. Ah, memories! God, I should make a soundtrack for this and post it at the end, along with the usual after credits scenes in all Marvel shit, because yeah I have a sequel already planned. If any of you leave a review you should leave song recommendations when I compile the soundtrack!**


	15. Chapter 15 - Retrieval

**I'M ALIVE! Also, debatable-cerealkiller actually drew Amy! I was screaming. That was a while ago, but I wanted to update you guys on that. It still makes me so happy that that happened. Thank you everybody who's reading, who's reviewing, who's favoriting, following, drawing, and who stuck with this story even when I took months off. You guys are the MVPs!**

* * *

**Chapter 14 – Retrieval**

* * *

SHIELD personal had already taken up occupancy in Amy and Tony's lab. It had only been two hours since the girl's breakthrough, yet teams of tacticians, psychologists, field supervisors, the field supervisors' field agents, and a new Project Overseer had made their little nest. Tony turned to the younger girl behind him.

"On Fury's orders you aren't allowed in the lab anymore. Tell me what you need me to get."

"Phase I involves nothing discreet. You can't sneak out everything I need you to get. You'll need a distraction. I'll let you think that up. And then there's Phase II. We'll get to that later, but I need JARVIS or Vicki hack into the database on that one. I recommend not-Vicki, since it would blow her cover."

"Vicki has a cover?"

"Mhm," Amy nodded. "I gave her to Fury when I was fifteen so that I could use her to keep an eye on classified things he would try to keep me out of. If he ever barred information from me Vicki would send me the intel," she explained. Tony chuckled.

"You're brilliant, you know that?"

"Thank you," Amy smiled. "I made a list of gadgets that I'd need: A blue tooth device that has Vicki installed in it, a holographic watch-"

"A holographic watch? What is this, a Bond film?"

"I like keeping it old school," Amy protested. "The watch, the blue tooth, and – don't laugh at this – a utility belt."

Tony pressed his lips together, body vibrating as he tried not to laugh. He couldn't keep it up for longer than a second. He laughed hard. Amy glared hard. Tony quieted, still giggling under his breath.

"There's one last thing I'll need, but that's Phase II. We'll get to that after I've showered. The watch and the blue tooth are hidden in a secret compartment on my desk. Simple enough. Just act like you're collecting my non-spy things for me and open the drawer on the underside when no one's looking. The belt is a bit more challenging. It was bulky and I had to hide it in a wall compartment. It's behind the blown-up TV monitor. There's no way you grab it and walk out without raising suspicion. You'll have to create a distraction," Amy debriefed. "Then we'll meet up in the lounge and begin Phase II. Got it?"

"Shit, it's like Mission Impossible with you."

"_Got it?_"

"Should we synchronize our watches?"

"_Tony!_"

"Alright, I get it!"

"Okay. Good luck," Amy shook his hand.

"I'm not gonna die!" Tony exclaimed, ripping his hand from Amy's. She shrugged ominously and turned to walk down the hallway to her quarters.

Tony shook his head as he watched her shuffle down the empty hall. _One weird kid._ He shrugged his shoulders, loosening the stressed knots before he pulled open the lab's door.

* * *

Amy sprinted down the hall, sirens' ugly lights blinding her peripheral and the sound of troops mobilizing behind her. She crashed into Tony at an intersection.

"What the hell happened?!" She screamed.

"I had a little snafu," he shrugged. "But I got the stuff." He held up the utility belt and the two other pieces for Amy to see.

"We don't have time for this," Amy said, grabbing Tony by the wrist, "We need to get to the underground."

"What's waiting for us there?"

"You'll see," Amy said.

* * *

When the elevator door opened on the underground Amy and Tony were met with the faces of ten SHIELD agents prepared to stop them.

"Hi," Amy grinned.

Her fist connected with the nose of the nearest agent, dropping him to the floor. She swept under the feet of the next, dropping him down, then grabbing his friend with her thighs and throwing them on top of him. A guard attempted to grab her from behind and she threw a backfist, slamming her knuckles into his trachea. He went down choking on his own spit. When the next one came she rechambered her hand and threw out a knife hand strike. This time she was blocked. _Impressive_, she smirked. The guard's fingers laced around her wrist. Amy twisted her arm, snapped his head back with a front kick to the chin, and ripped her wrist free.

Amy leaped at two guards standing close together. Her legs wrapped around the neck of one, her arms around the other, both were flipped to the floor. She swept the legs out from the next guard and slammed her fist down on the solar plexus, paralyzing him with pain. The next guard grabbed her from behind and hauled her from the floor. Amy swung her body and took ownership of the momentum. She kicked out and dropped her weight, flipping her attacker and freeing herself. The final guard charged at her. Amy blew out a frustrated sigh and shot an electric blast at him. He dropped, shaking and saliva frothing.

Breathing heavily, Amy marched down the hall. Tony followed after a moment of staring.

Amy grabbed the holowatch out of Tony's hand and summoned Vicki.

"Vic, I need you to download JARVIS into this watch," Amy ordered.

"I'm certain he can just force his way into my systems if he really wants to get in," Vicki said spitefully. "Who needs organization and protection when we can just _hack_ into a woman's private facility that she's supposed to be protecting!"

"Oh my god, Vicki, not now!" Amy scolded. "Upload JARVIS into this watch or I'll make you."

"Fine."

Amy passed the watch back to Tony.

"Make sure the kids behave. There's more guards incoming," she said.

Tony kept an eye on the progress bar and Vicki's grumbling as Amy ran up ahead. She disappeared around a corner and then the body of a guard flew by, screaming. The sound of bodies flopping and bones breaking lasted for a minute before Amy waved Tony to follow her once more.

The upload completed just as they got to the final hallway. Amy stopped just before the bend and looked at Tony.

"I want to thank you for helping me get this far, and for letting me use JARVIS for this," Amy said. "And especially for understanding that from this point on I need to go alone."

"It was no problem. I just want to be there for you," he said with only mild pain in his voice.

"Why? You hardly even know me."

"You... really remind me of myself," Tony said with a small smile.

"Dude, are you hitting on me?"

"Oh, God no!" Tony recoiled in disgust.

"I was just making sure! It tends to always happen with me!"

"No, no! Hell no!"

"Thank you, I get the message," Amy crossed her arms over her chest. "Really, though, thanks for everything." She gave him a light punch in the shoulder, smiling slightly. Tony nodded and turned the gadgets over to Amy. She gave a nod as her thanks, then she was gone.

The guards were easy to take out and Amy stood at the door of the vault. Her fingers twitched with excitement, sparks melting along the creases of her hand. She lifted the watch up, level with her lips.

"Alright, JARVIS, I need you to hack in and swing that door open," Amy instructed.

"Certainly, Miss Mercad," JARVIS said, dropping a funny note on her name that Amy missed in the excitement.

The vault door swung open, too quick to relish- much to Amy's disappointment. It sat in front of her, what she had only dreamed of being allowed to touch one day. Her supersuit.

She smashed the glass container it was in, tearing it from its stand. Her fingers rubbed the fabric of it – made up of little rough grooves to insulate heat, keep out cold, and keep her from being stabbed by a pocket knife. It was perfectly fitted according to her weight six months ago. It might be a bit loose, after these past few weeks. The coloring was in Amy's powers' signature color: blue and purple. The main color of the suit was blue. A purple arm and leg accented it. The knee-high boots were purple too.

Amy pulled her hair back into a ponytail. The footsteps of armed guards were approaching. She quickly slipped on the suit and pulled on the boots. The guards turned the corner and she was gone. Invisible, really. She slipped through the crowd as a ghost. When she was clear of them she took off running down the hall to the emergency exit: a tunnel that would take her far from the facility and on her path to finding Hellqvist.

"JARVIS, thank you for everything," Amy said, "I need you to get out of Vicki's systems now."

"As you wish," JARVIS said, retracting from Vicki's house again.

"You know, he does have a rather handsome system," Vicki said once he was gone. Amy rolled her eyes and made a gagging noise. She stared down the tunnel before her, hesitating only a second before stepping forward.

* * *

**This is shorter than I thought it would be. I'll have to update soon. We're getting to a really good part that I'm excited for.**


	16. Chapter 16 - Don't Touch Me

**Chapter 16 - Don't Touch Me**

* * *

Lights. They're fuzzy, starting at the edge of her vision and melting forward. Melt into clarity. Realize it's sunlight, beating in through the cracks of wooden boards that make up walls. She blinks. One, two, three. Where is she?

Water drips from somewhere. It echoes. One, _one_. Two, _two_. Three, _three_. Perhaps from a broken pipe. She looks up. Her hands are bound to a pipe. She dangles from it, tips of toes barely gracing the ground. Like a goddess.

The pain settles in now. Pins and needles in her skin, and then more. Deeper. From stinging to screaming in a few short seconds. The pain grips her spine and yanks. Flits on the nerves of her wrists where rope bites. It rips open her chest and curls underneath her rib cage. So close to her heart. She's been beaten, thrown around, tied up.

She glances down at her chest. Circular holes in her suit, jagged on their edges and singed like something hot penetrated there. Brown dried blood on the royal blue material. _I got shot. _Her lips quiver. Her eyes water. She doesn't wonder who patched her up, who dragged her here. She can guess and guess good. She wonders how she could have failed so badly.

* * *

"How could you let this happen?" Catherine hissed.

Tony knew the risks when he took them. He knew that Fury and Catherine would hate him for it, but he also knew Amy was ready. That sometimes you gotta run before you can walk.

"I didn't _let_ her do anything-"

"Bullshit! You directly assisted her. You let her go out to fight a terrorist _alone_! Do you have any idea-" Catherine's throat closed up. "She could be killed!" She screamed once she found breath.

"She could have been killed if you went with her too! But you were fine with breaking orders when you got to go with her. I have to ask, did you want to join her for her own safety? Or was it so that you could find an easy way out and see your husband again?" Tony bit out. Catherine reeled back, too stunned to speak.

"Enough!" Fury interrupted.

"And you let her go because you're so desperate for what can hardly count as yours that you'd see her dead rather than anyone else's!" Catherine shouted.

"Not a word," Fury said to Tony, his mouth hanging open to come back. Tony scowled at Fury. Cat scowled at Tony. Under her icy glare Tony retreated.

Guilt wasn't in Tony's vocabulary at the moment. He knew he was doing the right thing. This was what Amy needed, he told himself. A twinge of unease sat with him, though. It was just the paranoia, he could argue. But what he couldn't argue was that Amy was genetically his, and that a tendency to make mistakes while trying to right them seemed to run in the family.

Catherine fumed. Unable to sit still, she took to pacing the room. Her fingers twitched by her side so she busied them with pulling on her hair. Anxious tick. She was so anxious. And so angry. How could Tony do this? Why would he do this? Was this his sick way of trying to bond with her girl? The questions came to her mind and were crumpled up and thrown out like a writer disappointed in their page. Only one thought clung to her significantly: Is Amy okay? She could never be sure until she had her in her arms again. She would break every order she needed to see her girl again.

Fury looked between the two adults behaving like children in front of him. One a prodigy in espionage and lies, the other a prodigy in the art of war and science. Neither asked for their gifts. Amy hadn't either. Now, because of both of these people in front of him, he was at risk of losing SHIELD's prodigy. His eyes drifted to Stark. If there was anyone at the most fault here it would be him, helping Amy break protocol and risk her own life. Then there was Catherine, the Nivena woman who would have done the same damn thing in a heartbeat. Stark had just beaten her to the punch. Maybe he couldn't blame either of them. He was a Stark, she was a Nivena, and he knew both houses were troublemakers. Maybe that was why Amy was so difficult. He would have given a small smile at the memories of his junior agent if he wasn't worried for her life.

"D-rect-r F—y," a static encrusted voice hacked into the room. Fury recognized it immediately as Vicki, broken as she sounded.

"Stark, find out what's wrong with Vicki and fix it," he ordered. Tony nodded, rushing to a panel in the wall and began to fiddle with wires.

Catherine sat very still, wide eyes on the table. Amy would have taken Vicki, Catherine realized. And now Vicki was in this room, broken and begging for the Director. Oh god, what had happened?

"D-rect-r F—y, Am- - amb-sh-d," Vicki said.

"Come again, Vicki?" Fury asked.

"Got it!" Tony pronounced.

"Amy and I were ambushed," Vicki said clearly. The room joined Catherine in her stand still. "We were heading to bust up the first of Hellqvist's predicted hideouts when the ambush occurred," Vicki pressed on. "They were prepared for us this time. It wasn't like the mall. They were prepared for us this time," she said. "They wiped me from her holowatch's system. I couldn't even drop a pin on our location. I came back here as fast as I could. I'm so sorry," her voice broke again.

Tony's hand came to claw at his chest. He couldn't breathe. He was certain the room had been turned into a vacuum and that now he was starving for air. Amy was ambushed. Vicki wasn't with her. They couldn't find her. She was gone. And it was his fault. Guilt clung to him now like the stench of sweat. It rolled down the bone of his neck and over his brow. Pressed over his throat like the heat. What had he done?

"Do you have any idea where she could be now?" Fury asked.

"Probably at one of the projected hideout sites. I'll submit the new data and assist in the calculation. She was captured, not killed."

"Thank you, Vicki," Fury said. Vicki fluttered from the room to the lab. Fury sat back in his chair, looking away from the vidscreen. So even Vicki helped Amy escape? He hoped they'd all learn a lesson about disobeying orders from this.

He recovered from his moment of thought and turned back to the screen, facing Amy's parents.

"Well, don't you two think you could help with the search?"

Catherine slowly thawed, realization of what she could do dawning on her. Tony faced the pair of spies once again, gulping down his visible emotions. He nodded once and rushed out of the room. Catherine soon followed.

Fury shut down the vidscreen and stood from his office chair. He would need to book a flight, because this needed to be dealt with in person.

* * *

Amy shivers when she hears the door creak open and slam shut. Bile rises as the footsteps approach. Don't touch me, don't touch me, don't touch me, she begs. Squeeze her eyes shut when the figure's close enough to cast their shadow over her. Fear has never been so real, sinking talons into her heart and dictating its beat. The rhythm is all wrong, a sick song that no one should hum. Amy's breath stutters when firm fingers wrap her jaw like a spider's web. Hot blood, too weak, no power. Cold hands, cruel callouses, a scent of vanilla.

"At last. Hello, Amy," and she knows that voice.

* * *

**Ehehehe**


	17. Chapter 17 - Betrayal

**I know it's been a long time and this chapter is being served hot off the press, but it's been way too long. I couldn't bear it any longer. So while my inspiration and heart for this story may be barely beating, I want to try my hardest. I've been really busy writing other stuff. A short story I want to try to get published, a novel I also want to try to get published, and now a person who's read this fanfic and requested that I enter a writing contest. I've been very busy and being both busy and not into this story anymore has made writing for it hard. Sorry if this sucks, sorry that it's short, not at all sorry about the delicious plot twist. Three cheers for giving Amy angst! Also lowkey I might be discontinuing this story I'm not sure yet.**

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Betrayal is a Dish Best Served Hot and Bloody**

* * *

"Amy, open your eyes please," the Swedish accent unsettles her stomach in popcorn pops of discomfort with every syllable.

"No. I don't want to look at you," she spits back out, blood spitting with it. Hellqvist is quiet, presumably wiping her bloody spittle from his face.

"Don't you want to know what I look like? Who I am?" He asks. She shakes her head.

"You're the one who killed my father," she says.

"Well, yes. But I'm much more than that, Amy. And you are much more than the girl who killed my father and my mother, as I've learned. You're a girl of... no spine, no aspirations, a girl who lets others tell her what she's going to do for the rest of her life because she's too scared of displeasing people to speak up!" He berates her. Amy's hands twist in their ropes.

"Unbind me and I'll show you how much of a spine I've got," Amy growls. Hellqvist laughs.

"I doubt it even exists. You'd rather be abused than make a complaint. You let your boyfriend get away with so much. All that was said to you and done to you. You took it like a champ. I wouldn't be surprised if Cody wasn't the first to abuse you. But I bet he'll definitely be the first to truly betray you," and he sounds so smug. Like he's already won. Amy's heart stops.

"What do you mean?"

"You knew the day my agents attacked in that mall that one of your friends had betrayed you to me. Did you ever stop and think that maybe one of your friends were me?"

Her heart thuds in her chest so heavily it could burst. This can't be happening. It can't be. Her mouth has gone dry, her body is still and tense. Panic pulses in her like blood.

"Open your eyes, Amy," Hellqvist tells her. And damned curiosity has her do it.

Eyes cold as ice and a romanticized blue stared into her face, expectant. They were the eyes of the little boy she'd met on that fateful night as a child. The eyes she'd met on that fateful night just a few months ago in a McDonald's with her friends. They were the eyes of Hellqvist, she understood now, as they stared at her. Calculations and cruelty glimmered underneath them, taking pleasure in her mouth agape and face slack. Hair so blond it was almost white, a jutting jaw, a personal strength that once melted her and now terrified her. He had seemed kind then. Sweet then. Strong and suave and maybe a bit angry but not like this. Nothing like this.

"Cody," Amy whimpers, tears swelling in her eyes again.

"I was. Pretended to be. See, I thought at first I wanted to just kill you and your family. Then I realized how much more special it would be to lead you on. To make you love me and then to take it all away. It was what you did to me. When we were children and you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen and then I walk out my door and you're with the bodies of my fucking parents!" Hellqvist howls at her. Amy can't even stutter a response before his fist connects with her face. Gets her on the side of her mouth. Cuts her bottom lip on her teeth.

"Cody, Hellqvist, Tomas, whoever! I did not kill your parents. I didn't even know what the mission was!" Amy tries to explain, begs him to understand. He laughs, cold and feral.

"Right, right. That's what you say. But here's the thing, Amy," he says, leaning in close, breath hot on her face. "I don't believe you." And then he leans in closer, to where his lips are almost brushing her's. "And you're going to find out why they called me Torture with a capital T."

* * *

Tony spectates the techies buzzing around their equipment like bees in a hive. He could do twice what they could with half the equipment. Hell, he's done a million times more than what they could in a cave with a box of scraps. He takes a sip of his coffee, black and bitter in the drab facility that was supposed to keep Amy safe.

Catherine sits down next to him, resting on the swivel chair next to his workbench.

"Feeling sorry for yourself won't get her back," she says. Tony takes another swig of coffee. Doesn't reply. Catherine sniffs. "Well, I'll be getting actual work done while you pout," she says as she rises.

"What do you plan to do?" Tony asks. He doesn't look at her. Still stares at the workers on the other side of the lab.

"Whatever I can," Catherine says, steel and strong. Tony nods. "You should too," she says. Tony stays quiet, contemplative, for a while.

"Why aren't you screaming at me?" He asks, swirling his coffee in its mug.

"Because as much as I wish I could pretend that helping Amy run away would have gone any better for me, I know it's a lie. Amy is Amy, and trouble tends to look for her. No matter how hard you try to keep her safe," Catherine shakes her head. Tony smiles.

"Chip off the old block," he says beneath a grin.

"Too much. It seems like your assholery is just genetic," Catherine jokes. They share a laugh. Catherine sits back down. "Tell me how I can help you, before I have to go and do what I need to."

"It's really all Vicki and JARVIS right now. With Amy's algorithm and the processing power between the two it shouldn't take long to find probable locations. The only thing we need to worry about is time. How much do we got until Hellqvist... y'know," Tony finishes somberly. "I just got her. I don't want to lose her." Catherine nods.

"You won't," she assures him.

They look back to the workers in the lab. At the way they scramble. At the papers that fly when the intern trips. At the project overseer screaming at them. They realize they're not alone in this. That the entirety of SHIELD is on their side. They don't know how they feel about that.


	18. Chapter 18 - Everybody's Got A Plan

**Shoutout to anybody who's emotionally invested in my crap. And, Amy, I am so sorry.**

* * *

**Chapter 18 - Everybody's Got A Plan**

* * *

"I think you and I both know that we have to do this without SHIELD," Catherine whispers, voice hushed in the bunk they meet in. Tony nods.

"Regulations, orders, all kinds of B.S. It's not worth our time," he agrees. Catherine's face is set and Tony knows they're about to do something crazy.

"This is a suicide run, Tony, and we could die," Catherine's pale green eyes trace his face, searching for him to second guess. He doesn't.

"For her," he says. Catherine smiles lightly.

"For her."

* * *

His voice is taunting her. As it always had been, in the back of her brain. Cody's voice, and the lies he weaved before her eyes. She doesn't cry from the pain of the knife that's digging into her skin. They think so, and they laugh, but she knows better. Hellqvist was right. No knife cuts like betrayal.

She sniffs. Squeezes her eyes shut. They slap her. Shout at her to keep them open. She follows orders. It's what SHIELD trained her to do. Follow their orders, you won't get hurt. Too much. What they had meant by that was that you won't get killed. Probably. They will still do so much more to you, she realizes now.

One of them spits on her and that's when she snaps. Electricity sparks in her palm and she rears like a bull. Roars with rage before the steel rod strikes her down. They laugh and taunt as she winces, her ribs cracked. As she's made powerless under the restraints made just for her.

"I've heard that water and electricity don't go well together," the dark-haired one from the mall whispers in her ear. Amy shivers as the words tickle her spine. Her chair is thrown back, held by two of the bigger mercenaries, and a towel is placed over her face. The water comes in a slow trickle at first. Then the flood. Snaking down her throat and into her nostrils. She does her best to hold her breath.

They hoist her back up. Amy hacks and coughs, tears clouding her eyes as a sob croaks in her throat. They toss her back down. Again and again the terror of drowning tortures her.

* * *

Breaking out of a SHIELD safehouse for a second time with his ex-fiancee wasn't what Tony could have foreseen. Catherine had a different approach than Amy had, however.

"What do you mean we're going to walk right out?" Tony asks her. She keeps her even pace, not a stutter in her footwork to be seen.

"The plan is simple. You get your suit. I get my car. You get JARVIS. We leave. If anybody tries to stop us they deal with me," Catherine explains. They round the corner and meet two SHIELD personnel. Catherine greets them with a slight smile and a nod. They do the same, if a bit nervously. Tony watches them as they move past. "Get your suit. I'll-"

"Hey!"

They turn around and are met with a bearded man in a navy uniform. Tony looks to Catherine. Catherine stares down the man.

"You two are on probation. You know that. Why are you out of your assigned quarters?" He asks, speaking as though to children. Tony's eyes bat between Cat and the agent. He lets out a low whistle.

"Man," he shakes his head with pity, "You're about to get the greatest ass beating of your life."

Catherine strikes. A sharp kick at the agent's chin. He leans back to dodge. Catherine whips around.

"Go! Get your suit!" She orders. Tony bolts down the hallway. Catherine turns back to the agent. Just the two of them now. She smirks. How unfair for him.

He swings his fist in a wide arc meant to be a hook. She blocks him and sends three sharp punches to his diaphragm. He rolls back on his heels, face red and arms clutching his stomach. She grabs him by the beard throws him into the wall. He bounces back and charges. She sidesteps him. He whips around and charges for her again. He's faster this time. Grabs her. Slams her into the wall. She picks up both legs and kicks him in the chest. He falls back and she falls too. Catherine gets up faster. He's kneeling. She's kneeing him in the mouth. He swallows his own teeth as he falls back. One final kick to the temple and he's down.

Catherine takes off running to the garage. She knows security cameras had to have picked up the fight. They know. She has to get there before them.

Rubber bullets are loaded into her pistol and she fires them at will. Any agent that looks at her funny as she runs meets a chest load of rubber. One gets to put out a facility-wide warning before she gets him in the neck with two. The facility starts to lock up. They're too late. She's already in the garage. The keys are in the ignition and just as the gates are closing she scrapes through, metal screaming against metal as she speeds away.

"Tony, come in," Catherine speaks into her earpiece.

"You know last time I heard that I ended up with a daughter," he quips. Catherine groans.

"So you made it?"

"Yeah, I made it."

"Good," Catherine says, looking out of her window to the dusty evening sky. "Because I'm going to need air support."

* * *

Amy shivers under the gaze of him. She wishes she wouldn't. He stares at her and sneers, like he's already won. He sits down gracefully in a chair that the dark-haired mercenary pulled up for him. He thanks her, calling her Amelia, and his eyes return to Amy. She doesn't want to look into his eyes. The blue of him twists in her stomach whenever she sees him. But it was her mother who taught her to always look an enemy in the eye. Looking away is weak, she would say. Amy lifts her chin a little higher. Stares with malice and spite into the eyes that hurt her. She takes an angry breath, nostrils flaring. She will not be the weak one here.

He must know what she's doing by the way he smirks. Hellqvist ticks his fingers against the armrest. He lets her wait, keeping her baited on his every breath.

"I've been thinking," he says finally, Swedish voice husky, "about you. And I. And your SHIELD organization." He swallows, looking away from her with thought. "I've decided that I don't want what happened to me to happen to anyone every again. All of the pain I was forced to go through, not just because of you, but because of the men and women who gave you your orders. To know that there are other people out there like me who've been hurt as I have. People unjustly killed like my parents were. Never again," Hellqvist leans forward, staring deep into Amy's eyes. "I am going to cleanse the world of the stain that SHIELD is. But first, I need information. I need to know the ins and outs like that of somebody who was raised in it. I need you, Amy. I need you to help me protect the people."

"You're deluding yourself," Amy croaks, dry lips scraping against her teeth. Hellqvist smiles.

"No, I'm not. If you won't let me know what I need then I'll be forced to take it from you. Do you want that?"

Amy sits quietly as he stares at her. He is the picture of creepy white boys. His teeth shine as he smiles, his eyes hollow, his posture predatory as he tries to pretend he's her friend. Amy lifts her chin higher.

"No," she bites out the word she's denied herself her whole life. All the fury she's ever pent up comes with it. "I would never help you. Because you are a deluded, sadistic, evil son of a bitch! I'm sorry about what happened to you, I really am, but none of it is my problem. I'm not going to force myself to give a damn about you anymore. I'm done playing like you're my equal. You are my enemy," Amy grinds her teeth. Something feral howls in her. "You want to go to war with SHIELD? Fine by me. I'll kill you. I swear I will. Just like you killed my father."

A darkness shadows Amy's heart. Grief and misery morph into the crueler rage and vendetta. She can feel the change in her skin. In her veins. In the stinging electricity that hums in her bones. The hate nestles away in her heart. Waits for her to use it. Her eyes are full of danger. She can feel the burn of it in the pit of her belly, rising to her chest and neck, filling her wholly. She looks like a caged animal, strapped down by a dozen bands in a warmed metal chair. Hellqvist takes a short breath.

"Amelia, get me my tools," he calls.


	19. Chapter 19 - Conditions of Convenience

**Okay, so this is less of a new chapter and more of, "I've been gone for four months and FF deleted EVERY FUCKING FILE I HAVE ON ALL OF MY SHIT. Including my final chapter. I'm pretty sure I had everything saved on my old iPod (I know, weird), but like yeah... I just lost everything because I'm an asshole and haven't been on here in a while. I took that as a sign I needed to get my butt in gear and write the next damn chapter. Sorry it's so short, but I needed to cut this so that I could write the next chapter better and longer. Keeping this portion with what I have planned next was too awkward.**

* * *

**Chapter 19 - Conditions of Convenience**

* * *

"And they got away?" Fury checks with the agent in front of him. The agent nods.

"Yes, sir," she says, fidgeting with a folder in her hands. Fury nods.

"Thank you, agent," he says dismissively, striding past her. He meets up with Maria by the helicopter they flew in on.

"What now?" Maria asks.

"Now," Fury says, playing with a holographic tablet, "we find them. Before they can do something stupid."

* * *

She drives on the empty road, fingers ticking on the steering wheel as the stars fill the sky. A new moon hangs invisible in a night infertile. Their first stop is blinking on the GPS and JARVIS is reciting its probability. The truth of the matter is that no matter how probable it is that her daughter is there, it is probable a fight will be there. Catherine isn't afraid of that. If anything, she's excited to beat down on Hellqvist's goons. She's only afraid she won't make it to Amy in time.

More immediate problems chase them through the air.

"Looks like SHIELD found us," Tony's voice crackles over the comm-unit they have.

"Then handle it, but no casualties," Catherine suggests.

"Already on it," and his voice sounds rougher as the suit dives and weaves, firing beams of light and illuminating the dark road for heartbeats of seconds as Catherine drives.

* * *

Hellqvist and Amelia stand on the other side of the room, watching an unconscious Amy breathe in stressed breaths. Even sleeping she was aware of where she was and what they would do next.

"I cannot believe – Four teeth, three broken ribs, and a burning iron rod later and she has yet to say anything. SHIELD did good on her, I can give them that," Amelia says with mild wonder. Hellqvist growls and slams a fist into the wall with a frustrated cry. He couldn't kill Amy while he still needed information from her. The stress was getting to him. Amelia could tell in the feverish glint in his eyes and the way he picked at the dried blood on his knuckles. "Sir, there may be another way," she offered.

Hellqvist's attention piqued. He turned to his right hand woman with owlish eyes desperate for her answers. For something to aid him.

"You see, it was on Amy's most basic file that my agents found that Amy's _condition_," she said the word with a watchful glare at Amy, "is transferable through blood to blood contact. If you take her blood, you gain her powers, and then you won't even need her to give you names and places. You would have the power to take them from anyone you needed." Amelia took a step towards Hellqvist and rested a hand on his shoulder, staring deeply into his eyes. "You would have the power to take justice."

Hellqvist gleamed under the dim hanging lights, rapt attention and starving eyes never breaking from Amelia's. Slowly he nodded, and his eyes broke from her's. Drifted to Amy's waking form. Watched as she tensed when she remembered where she was and as a broken little sob of despair lifted from her he smiled. He smiled malicious and full of a dark intent. Amelia knew his answer before he spoke the words.

"I'll get what we need," she said, leaving him.


End file.
